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A LEGEND 



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N O R^WO OD;" 



OB, 



VILLAGE LIFE IN NEW ENGLAND. 



AN ORIGINAL DKAMATIC COMEDY OF AMERICAN LIFE, 



IN FOUK ACTS. 



POtTNDED ON A NOVEL BY 



REV. HENRY WARD BEECHER. 



BY AUGUSTIN DALY, 

XDTHOR OF " LEAH THE F0K8AKEN," " GRIFFITH GADNT," " TAMING A BCTTEKFLY," 
" UNDEK THE GASLIGHT," ETC. __^___ 

t IJBHARY OF COiXGRKSS. # 



# 
* 











^UNITED STATES OF AMKUICA.} 

PRINTED FOR THE AOTHOR. 
18 6 7. 



Entered according to Act of Congress m the year 1867, by 

A U G U S T I N 1> A L Y , 

lu the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District 

of New York. 



i^] 



isi o R^w^o o r>. 



DRAMATIS PKRSONJE. 



Bahton Cathcaut— a son of New England. 

Doctor Wuntwortii — Tlie first gentleman in Norwood. 

DKAfoN Marble— Who can be good an'l merry too. 

Hiram Hrhrs -The Norwood teamster and village oracle.. 

Tommy Tait — An old salt who never laid up ior repairs. 

Tom IIkywood— The Southerner who was liked in Norwood. 

Frank Esici. — The Boston artist who turned his brush into a sword. 

Mr. Turfmocld — The first-olass Undertaker of Norwood. 

Judge Bacon — Who hoped the North wouldn't go too far. 

The Boy prom Haudscrabble — A case. 

Pete Sawmill — The gentlest heart and the most useless darkey that ever lived. 

LiECTENANT BANKS — At Fort Sumter. 

O'Mdllioan — The sukstitute for one of the richest men, sir, up North. 

Wir.LiE — A little drummer boy. 



CnERHB. 

Rose Wextwohth — The Rose of Norwood. 

Alice Cathcart — The divided heart 

Aoate Bi.s.sell— The best Old Maid in New England. 

Polly Marble — The Deacon's wife. 

Mother Taft- The first person the Norwood babies see. 

Mother Hlakely — Who sent Cephas to the war with his trunk. 

Children in Norwood who loved Tommy Taft. Neighbors at Home in Norwood. 
Soldiers recruited in the village for the war. Soldiers at Gettysburg. The Band 
of the .-^now Hill Company. Officers, sentinels, teamsters, wounded soldier.^, hos- 
pital nurses, &e., &c. 

:a: 

THE SCENES. 



ACT I. — Love that loa.t not spoken. Scene 1. Home in Norwood. Who loves, 
wlio is loved, and who does not love. The Grammar of Affection. How 
to decline. No way to Conjugate. Tableau — The Nutting Party. 

ACT II. — The First Bonm of the Gun. SiKNE I. A lover returns, and hopeless. 
'Tableau— The President's Proclamation. Scene 2. Drumming up Recruits, 
The Quota from Hardscrabble. Scene 3. The first men for the field. An 
adieu to the soldier lover. Tabl/wu — Departure of the Volunteers. 

ACT III.— 7'/)c Anf/rl of thr- Jinttln Field Scene 1. What was done the night 
after Gettysburg. Things that were told us of the war. The love that 
was spoken at last. Tableau— l>\eA on the Field of Battle. 

ACT IV Home. Scene 1. Wliat comes at last for the hopeful, the loving and 

the brave. A Wedding in Norwo id. Tableau — The Return of the Ver- 
erans. 



ISJ^ O JRA^TO O D. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. — Thegrounda in front of, and about Dr. Wextworth's house. 
A brook rippling besdde a cliednut tree on the l. Pathway 
leading from l. u. e. A rustic bridge crosses the brook from 
L 1 E. to c. of stage, where it meets a pathway leading up to 
the gateviay of the house on an eminence r. 4 e. The road 
from the woods comes in at r. 1 e. An unfinished paling 
partly surrounds the tree on l. Rustic seat by tree r. 1 e. 
Mound by the chestnut c. 

At the rise of the curtain, to the music of birds, a 
number of children are discovered at pilay. One, lying 
on the bridge, is dabbling in the water. Cherub, (a 
black child), and a white child, are bringing one of the 
wooden rails down the pathway to throw into the water. 
Two other youngsters are leaning against the gateway at 
R. u. e., one carrying a broken hooij, and aghast at the 
temerity of the two former. 

Tommy Taft, u}ith a rail and hammer in hand, enters 
from L. u. K. He has a wooden leg. 

Taft. Hallo! hallo! I say! you little rascals, bring that back. 

Cherub. We was going to play boat, Tommy. 

Taft. Make a boat, eh ? ( Takes the rail from them). I'll see about 
that. {Kisses the other child, then goes up and commences to nail the 
fence). This here's for your benefit, my cherubs. Keep you from 
wishin' for nuts as long as you can't get 'em. Keep you from eatin' 
'em and makin' yourselves sick. But I'll make it up to you some 
other way — -such as ships, sleds, wagons. 

All the Children. Will you, Tommy ? {All gather round him). 

Taft. Of course I will. What's an old sailor good for but to know 
all the odds and ends, and crinkums-crankums for young folks. {Ham- 
mering). Ah! the only jolly people in this world is young folks that 



NORWOOD. 7 

ain't good for nothing yet, and old folks that's past doin' much. 
What you got tliere ? {Stops, looking at youngster irith the broken hoo]}). 
Give it to me, lad. (Tcikeg it). Je.st let Tommy get at this here. 
Aha! (Giving it a twist and a blotv ivith his hammer). There you are. 
Give it a little medicine and it's well directly. (Pete is heard 
laughing without). 

Children. There's Pete! 

Taft. So it is! That's Pete; doin' his best to do nothin', as usual. 

Pete. (Outside). Yo! yo! dat's the way! (Comes prancing in r. 1 e. 
with a little girl on his shoulders). Now den, horsey stops right afore 
de garden gate. 

Girl. Pete, that was such a nice ride. 

Childrex. (Running down to him). Ride me, Pete! Ride me. 

Pete. Sho! (Fulting girl down). Horsey tired inos' to deflf. 
Gib horsey a chance. Go 'long wid ycrs. ( Children all run off' r. 1 
E. laughing). Sho! sho! (Turns to Taft). Yah! dat you, Mas'r 
Taft ? 

Taft. What are you doin' down here, Pete? (Working). 

Pete. Ah! business, Mas'r Taft. 

Taft. (Turning to him). Business! Why, you're the most useless 
piece of timber about the village. 

Pete. Dat depends; — now when dere's fishiu' to be done — or shoot- 
in' — or trappin' birds — 

Taft. You don't call that business ? 

Pete. Well, its serious 'nufl' matter for de fishes and do birds But 
Pse got to get do traps ready for de nuttin' party to-night. 

Taft. I say, Pete, you used to teach Rose how to fish, didn't you ? 

Pete. Dat I did. And do romps we used to hab, down to de ribber, 
wid Rex barkin' along by us all de way. You mind ole Rex, don' 
you, Mas'r Taft? Dead and gone, ole Rex. He was a black ole dog, 
but he was as good as de nex' white dog you ebcr see. Outside dere 
was a difference ob color, but inside — same dog. ■ 

Taft. You and your romps didn't do much good somewhere. It 
made some one a bit unsteady ; one pretty little vessel that I know — 
clean rigged — sharp prowed — but hard to manage. 

Pete. Who's dat ? 

Taft. Why, Miss Rose. She'll turn to every point of the compass 
in a minute. Now, she points — look 'ye, Pete — due South ; you un- 
derstand ? 

Pete. Mas'r Heywood ? Yah 1 yah ! 

Taft. And then she heads for Boston ; but seldom bears down for 
home — moaning to be understood by home, Barton Cathcart. Pve kept 
the log of her, and I know. They was growed together — she and Bar- 
ton — and he's got the best right to her. Suppose she is rich and he's 
got his fortin' yet to make — what of it ? Didn't he go to college, and 
get lamed just for her sake? Didn't he turn teacher, and spoil the 
best ball-phiyor in the village for her sake ? And where's his thanks ? 
( Waxing wroth, and taking up nails and hammer). First, there comes 
Mr. Esel from Boston, (Drices in nail, viciously), that's one! And 
then comes Mr. Heywood from the South, (Same play), that's two! 

Pete. Yah! yah! An' dey cut him out; dey whittled him out. 

Taft. Out him out! Whittled him out! There's many a thing 
whittled in New England, but there's one thing you can't whittle 
there — the Yankees themselves. 

(Agate appears at house gate, r. u. e). 



N BWO D . » 

Agate. Pete Sawmill! 

Pete. Dat's me. 

Agate. The Doctor wants you. 

Pete. I'm comin'. [Hxits, r. v. e.] 

Agate. {Standing in galeviay) . 'Most finished the fence, Tommy? 

Taft. Yes'm. ~" 

Agate. There's the churn wants fixin'. 

Taft. Then the churn '11 have to wait — I don't do no more work to- 
day, no more nor it was Sabberday. 

Agate. Thomas, You don't speak much like a Christian. 

Taft. I know it, I'm in a bad way. That's what you and the par- 
son say, and I haint got no excuse. I'm puttin' off the day of re- 
pentance. 

Agate. Thomas, I — 

Taft. You're alarmed at my case ; I know it. Its an alarmin' case. 
Its been alarmin' me for more'n forty years — but I don't do no more 
work to-day. 

Agate. That's the way you always speak to the parson. You'll 
never change, Thomas. \_Exit.'] 

Taft. {Giving a silent chuckle). Jest so! But its good for me. It 
makes 'em continually pray for me. I'm the best prayed for man in 
this here village. 

(Barton enters r. 1 e., with game bag slung, and gun). 

Barton. Well, Tommy, something pleases you, you are laughing. 

Taft. Hallo! my boy! Ha! hal I'm mortal glad you bore down 
this way. I wanted to speak to you, bad ; and I was just a consid- 
erin' which tack to keep to get in your course. [Putting his hammer 
and things up). 

Bar. Why, old friend, what is it now ? 

Taft. I've a question or two to ax you. [Putting on his coat). 
Barton, I've knowed you pretty much since you was born, and you 
won't think the old man sassy. [Coat only half on). 

Bar. ( Clasping Tiis hand). Why, of course not. 

Taft. I thought not. (Barton lays his gun against free e.) Are 
you a-goin' in — there ? [Points ivith thumb over shoulder and nods). 
Eh? 

Bar. To Dr. Wentworth's ? , 

Taft. To Rose Wentworth's. 

Bar. I said Doctor, Tom. 

Taft. And bein' an obstinate old salt, I said Rose. 

Bar. Well, yes, I am. 

Taft. Exactly — VVell, she ain't to hum. (Barton looks at him 

inquiringly). She's out walkin' with '■ — By the way. Barton, 

what do you think of the Boston chap ? 

Bar. Esel ? Rose's cousin ? An excellent fellow, 

Taft. I thought you thought so. And the other — the Southern 
chap that's come to live at Chandler's ? 

Bar. Why, he's a perfect gentleman ; I like him very much. 

Taft. Well, I s'posed so by the way you and he went round 
together. They say he's goin' to get Chandler's money. 

Bar. Well, I hope so, Tom. Money is useful in its way. But it 
takes more than that to make a man, 

Taft. Sartain. But some folks think they ought to have the best 
of everything because they've got money. Now he goes to the 
Wentworth's pretty often ; I don't think he goes there to get pills 
2 



'NORWOOD. H 

from the Doctor. If he does go there because lie's sick, its the sort 
o' sickness that pills won't cure. 

Bar. {Silent a moment). Well? {Turning aside). 

Taft. It's my opinion, now. Miss Rose knows who she likes. 

Bar. I suppose she does ; mo.st rational people do. 

Taft. If she ain't best pleased with Heywood of any fellow that's 
come along, then all signs fail, that's all. 

Bar. Well, Tom, I presume it's her own business. If she's suited 
I suppose we ought to be. 

Taft. {Straightening up, and touching Barton on the breast with his 
outstretched hand). Barton, my boy, I've knowed you ever since you 
was so high. I've took to you naterally, and I've been prouder of 
you than of anything on ship or shore, and if I could see you married 
to Rose Wentworth, I wouldn't care a shingle if I didn't live an 
hour afterwards. It ain't no use, my boy, for you an' me to be a 
coverin' up things. I tell you, you keep too shet up ; there's a 
heap o' things in you, that you'd do better to git out. What sort of 
a room is it where the fire haint got no chimney ? 

Bar. You forgot, Tom, I'm not her equal. She is rich — and I, — 
what am I ? A man who has to begin the struggle for wealth and 
station, and knows not that he will succeed in gaining either. 

Taft. That don't prevent you from telling her that you love her. 
A man don't need to fill his pocket before he opens his heart. 

Bar. No, Torn, I won't have people say of me what they say of every 
poor young man that courts a rich girl. What have I — nothing but 
an education, which has taught me how much she is above my reach. 

Taft. And you are willing to see another man carry her ofi' before 
your eyes ? 

Bar. Heaven forbid ! 

Taft. Well, and yet you see this fellow a actin' curious, and you 
don't look into it. 

Bar. {Laying his gun aside). Well, uncle Tommy, and if you were 
in my place, what would you do ? 

Taft. Go right to the feller and ask him plump what he's arter. If 
he's just foolin' round for the fun of it — why, he's got to understand 
there's other folks in the world besides him. If he's in airnest — why, 
she's got to choose between you, that's all. 

Bar. Tom, I'll do it. I've lost too much time already. 

Taft. That's it, you're in the right course now. {Meditatively). It's 
surprisin' how we take advice that travels in the same way we do. 
( To Bar) . And now don't say any more about that other idea of your'n. 

Bar. What other ? 

Taft. About goin' out West. 

Bar. Well, I won't. 

Taft. Out West is the place for disappinted critters, not for men 
of mettle. And yet it does surprise me how they make such good 
whiskey out there ; I guess they took to it jest to keep their spirits 
up. 

{3Iusic. Taft goes up l., passing Alice, who enters there). 

Alice. Good afternoon, 'Tomn'. 

Taft. Same, Miss Alice! (Alice comes down). Lord love herl 
she's jest as bad off in her heart, poor thing, as Barton. 

{Exit L. U. E.) 

Alice. Why, Barton ; back so soon. We all thought you'd stay 
'till night. 



NORWOOD. 13 

Bar. {Taking up his gun). I was alone, and I became tired. Where 
have you been, sister ? 

Alice. Walking- — with Rose. 
Bab. {Taking her hand). And whom beside ? 
Alice, ^[r. Esel. 

Bar. And Mr. Heywood, of course. 

Alice. " And Mr. Heywood, of course." Why do you speak so 
crossly when you mention his name 1 

Bar. Alice, tell me, do you think there is anything serious in the 
feeling- that Heywood has excited. {She Marts and turns away from him). 
For I know he has excited a certain feeling- in a certain breast. {She 
places her hands crossed over her bosom, as if in pain). Do you think 
there is any love for him ? 

Alice. I' don't — I — how should I know. {Running towards him). 
Oh, Barton, what do you mean ? 

Bar. He is the sort of man to please any girl, isn't he ? 
Alice. {Faintly). Yes. 

Bar. It may be that he is in earnest ; I'll speak to him about it. 
Alice. {Taking both his hands, and gazing i7ito his face.) No, Barton, 
not for worlds; such a thing would be monstrous. 

Bar. You think then 

Alice. Let love speak in its own time; it will always find a tongue. 

{Goes up into house, b. u. e.) 
Bar. She is right. What should I say to him, even if I did speak 1 
" Do you love Miss Wentworth ?" and be would ask me on whose 
authority I spoke. Am I Rose's accepted suitor ? If not, on what 
ground do I interfere ? And what would Rose say if she heard of my 
act 1 I could never look her in the face again. What then ? It is 
Rose or no one for me. Should heaven please I shall have a com- 
pleted life {Music) ; if not, I will not be the first man who limped 
through the world, striving to do his duty. But I will be true to that 
duty whatever comes. {Exit b. 1 e.) 

( Wait till music is done. Noise of wagon heard.) 
Habdscrabble BoY. {Outside L.XJ.-E.). Whoa ! Git up I Whoa I back 
up I Whoa I 

Polly Marble. {Entering h. v. e.). Massy on us, boy, you came nigh 
about turnin' us into the ditoh. 

Boy. {Outside). Whoa! Git I There you are. 
Alice. [Entering from house) . Why, Aunt Polly, and the Deacon I 
(Polly and Alice embrace, enter Deacon Marble l. u. k.) 
Deacon. Such a time as we have had getting here. That boy 1 
Alice. He looks like one of the Hardscrabble boys. 
Deacon. And he is one. We couldn't see Hieam and his team, so 
we had to hire this young urchin to get here before dark. 

Polly. And he drove on the very edge of the ditches. ( Calling out 
severely). Boy 1 

Boy. {Outside). Ya-a-s I 

Polly. Yes ! — That's Hardscrabble manners. Bring that box. Do 
you hear ? 

Boy. {Entering unth band-box l. u. e.). Do I hear 1 Wa-a-1 I reckon 
I'd be almighty deaf if I didn't. Now then, old woman, here you 
are. {Hands band-box). 

Polly. Did you ever hear such a young earpent ? 
Boy. Look a here. Deacon, you've had time to catch your breath, 
I reckon — pay up. 



NORWOOD. 15 

Deacon. Ha I ha ! ha ! {Takes out old wallet) . Let'6 see, ten cents 
was the bargain, wasn't it ? 

Boy. Yeh I Ten cents a piece ; you don't count the old woman 
nothin', don't you '{ Full him up for that. Miss Marble. 

Polly. ( To Alice). Oh ! — It was the Deacon's fault. He would 
ride with that boy because he was a character. I do believe he'd 
rather spend his time with shiftless reprobates like him and Hiram 
Beers, than with the Lord's own saints. 

Deacon. {Wiping hia head ivith handkerchief). Well, there's sar- 
tainly a pick amongst saints, Polly. But these poor creeters don't 
mean any harm, half the time, and everybody's pickin' at 'em, and 
nobody's tryin' to discover their good side. 

Boy. ( Who keejjs liii hands conManlhj in his pockets, carri/iny un 
immense whip under his arm). I say, ole hoss, if you don't ]>ay pretty 
quick PU bring in a bill for interest on that twenty cents. I'm 
losin' the use of that there money every minute you're a jawin' there. 
Come now. 

Polly. Well, such imperdence ! 

Deacon. There, my little man, twenty cents. {Hiram Beers ap- 
pears at fence, on stile L. u. e.) Doctor at home, Alice ; are we in 
time ? 

Alice. Oh yes ; the nutting party won't set out fur an hour yet 

{All going into house). 

Hiram. I say, Deacon ! ( The boy goes on examining his money). 

Deacon. Hallo, Hiram ! that you ? 

Hiram. I see a movin' pictur' o' starvation in the likeness of a 
horse, staudiu' by the gate, and an old hen-coop on wheels behind 
him. Did you come in that there team ? 

Deacon. Yes. My horse was laid up. Had to get that on the road 
from Hardscrabblo. 

Hiram. Do tell ! Wa-a-1 now, I tiiought there was the Hard- 
scrabble air about it. 

Boy. ( Who has listened sharply, but without turning to look at Hiram 
or the Deacon). Sa-a-y Deacon I 

Deacon. Well ? 

Boy. I smell a kind o' suthin' round here, like a whiskey jug left 

uncorked in a damp cellar over night. do you know it ? 'Taint 

what we call the Hiram Beers cologne watei', is it ? 

{Flicking his whip). 

Deacon. Fight it out between you ; I don't mind. 

(Polly and Alice go into house, Deacon is about to follow). 

Hiram. I say. Deacon I 

Deacon. Well '! 

Hiram. They say them Hardscrabblo fellars is just like stones ; 
got no more innards into 'em than a crowbar. 

Deacon. Oh, nonsense! {Goes into liouse, u. v. e.) 

Hiram. {Coming down to boy). Say, I've heard tell as how you folks 
down at Hardscrabblo work all day and all night, and keep workin', 
and never seem to get tired, 'cept on Sundays, when nobody won't 
hire you to do nuthin'. 

Boy. Jest sol (Takes out stick and knfe to whittle ; lohip under his 
arm). 

Hiram. {Trying to be cool, but provoked at the boy's coolness). Now, 
look you here. You've no right to take up our folks in your team. 



N RWO OD. 



17 



Keep to Hardscrabblo and scrabble it out aninnf? you, but don't yer 
come down here pickin' up loose change. D'ye hear ? 

Boy. {Ferching onfence at hack r , and still vchiltling). Hiram, if you 
ever come to Haidscrabble, don't talk much. 

Hiram. Want to know, now. "Why not I ..y 

Boy. Because if yuu opened that there mouth of youHn'T they'd 
sluit it up under the act for the effectual clo.sing of rum holes. 

Hiram. B;ili! {Coming down and about tu cross bridge). Darn mo, if 
there ain't Miss Rose. [Stands asid" in admiration. Ma>-ic. 

{Enter Kose and Esel together, r. 1 e., Reywood following leisurely 
icith hfV parasol). 

KosE. You'd better burn your brushes. Cousin Frank. 

Esel. And why ? 

1\ose. Sit dowuliere, and I'll tell you why. 

Esel. I suppose I had better. I've known you three years, 
Rose, and in that time you've made mc do and say only as you 
thoug-ht. 

Rose. Well, I declare, that's warm for a cousin. Sit down, sir! 

( They sit by tree k. 1 e. Hey wood saunters in with parasol, over bridge. 
Sunset glow over scene). 

Heywood. Do you not need this ? [Offering paraEol. 

Rose. No, save your own complexion. 

Hey. What from ? The sunset. Why, Mr. Beers, you're just tho 
man I wanted to see. 

Hiram. My name'.s Hiram on week days, Mr. Heywood ; I keeps 
Beers lor tSuiulay when I gets my Sunday clothes on. What was 
you a sayin', sir '( 

Hey. Can you tell me where I can look for a good horse ? 

Hiram Wal, now, Bledsoe's got about the best steppin' creature 
I knows of. Can do it in about 2 : 30. Sound as a knot. Silk feels 
coarse when you take your hand oif her hide 

Hey. What does he ask for her ? 

Hiram. Wa-a-1, 1 don't know. {Taking a chew reflectively). I guess 
you'll hev to wait till he's sold off pretty much everything down to 
her. Arter he's sold his wife and children, I guess j'ou kin git a bar- 
gain out of him for that horse. 

Hey. But I asked you for a horse that I could buy. 

Hiram. Mebbe you did. All I heard you say was : " Where can I 
look for a good horse ?" I say, look at Bledsoe's. 

Hey. I suppose you want a consultation fee. {Takes out a pocket' 
book and gives him a bank note. Hiram takes it, looks at it scrutin- 
izingly, and hands it back.) 

Hiram. Yes, Mr. Heywood, that's a genooine bill. 

Hey. Well, why don't j-ou keep it ? 

Hiram. What for ? You don't owe me anything. If yon think the 
information about Bledsoe's horse is worth a dollar, I don't. When 
I've arnt it pay me; and if you want to lay yourself out for a good 
horse say so. 

Hey. That's my frame of mind, Hiram. And I am willing to pay 
the best price fur the best horse-flesh, and your expenses in the 
bargain. 

Hiram. That's business. Jest step here I {Goes up with Ueyvtood, 
R. Hiram sees boy perched on fence ; sheers off in opposite direction, l. n. e. 
Boy laughs, and continues whittling). 

Esel. Do you think Barton Cathcart so handsome ? 
3 



NORWOOD. 19 

Rose. Every one is handsome wliom you love and respect. 
EsEL. Love and rcspecti Do you feel those for him ? lie is lucky. 
RosR. You would be all the richer if you had made his belter 
acquaintance. 

I'^SEL. As usual, you are beginning to be enthusiastic about him. 
Rose. You must ])ardon me that, cousiii Framk. Barton and I 
grew up like brother and sister, altliougli very dilleiently situated in 
life, and vv(; liave felt like brother and sister ever since we used to 
romp togetiier. 

EsEL. Sister ! That is a sweet word, consin Rose, in the realm of 
love, but it is a mischievous one. That word, " sister," is the cov- 
ered w.iy of love. First comes acquaintance — tiiat is May ; then 
friendship — liiat is June ; then brotiier .'ind sisleriiood — that is July ; 
and then love — which is August ; but July and August arc so much 
alike tiiat no one can tell wlien one stops and the oilier begins. 

Rose, Ah ! Harton loves me no more than a brother should, I 
know. {Manic). He is so good, and so sensitive of what is right, lle'd 
never fall in love with a giddy girl sueii as I. 

(Barton and Dr. Wentwohtu opprar/rom house at back, talking, the 
latin' wilhoul Ids hat. Tlic boy gves to h. 15arton sees the grouj) bdow 
and starts jealously . II ey wood cwjie.s m/rom l. u. e.) 

IIeywood. All ! Good afternoon Doctor ! Mr. Cathcart I {shakes 
hands ivilh Barton and Doctor). 

Doctor. Now, IIeywood, I want you to add your persuasions to 
mine to keep Barton here. 

Hey. Keep him here ? Why, Doctor, to bo sure. Where does he 
think of going ? Back to the Academy. 
Doctor. No, out West. 

Rose. Out West! {Elites and runs up to gateway). What an idea, 
Barton ! Since wlien have you had it '( 

Bar. {Coldly). Would j'ou really care to know ? 
Doctor Pshaw ! Why, like all iiis ideas, it has been taking root 
for several months before anything of it appeared above ground. I 
wish you'd root it up. 

Rose. '( Wdh reseroe ). I should first like to know wllat planted it 
there. ( TIten, recovering her sjnrils, runs to Barton, takes his arm and 
turns to others). Come, let's go in to tea, and you (/'> Barton) shall 
tell me what you've been thinking of Come, iMr. I'lsEi,. 

(Rose and Barton exeunt into house. Esel saunters up as Doctor and 
Haywood turn to go in). 

EsEL. I say. Doctor, what boy is that? {All gaze on Hardscrabble 
boy on fence ; he stoj^s uhiltling and gazes at them — whistling). 
Doctor. Fvidenlly transplanted Iroiii some hardy soil. 
Heywood. Oh, yes I Of the genus New England; — species, Hard- 
scrabble. 

Pete. {Outside i,.) Look yah, boy ! 

Doctor. Ah! there's Bete. We'll leave the task of examining the 
natural curiosity to him. 

[All laugh and go into house, n. n. b. 
Pete. {Entering l. v. e.) Look yah! Boy! 
Boy. Hello! 

Pete. What's yer pintin' fur now ? 
Boy, That tree. {Nods towards chestnut). 
Pete. De nuts 1 
Boy. Yeh! We don't have none of them up our way. 



NORWOOD. 21 

Pete. {Gazing fondly and proudly at tree). I g'uess not! 

Boy. Wc don't see a cliustiiut li-i;in xMonday moniing till Saturday 
night. Wc dream of thorn sometimes. 

Fete. Poor dcbbils! I tell ycr what : climb up and git a hat full. 

Boy. Cnn't. 

Pete. Why not ? 

Boy. Dunno how! Haint got no trees in Hardscrabble. We can 
climb a bush, but if its move than four feet we gets dizzy. 

Pete. Yaii! Jest hear datl Jest wait, Pll climb fur yer. 

Boy. {Jumping otf fence.) Pll give you a shove Pete. 

[Pete gofs bi-hind and climbs np. Sunsd glow disappears. 

Boy. Hurry up, Pete! 

Ag.\te {Inside). Pete! Pete! 

Boy. Hurry, Pete, they're calling yer. 

Pete. ( Up tree). Massy, dat'a Miss Agate! 

Boy. She's comin', Petk! quick, drop! 

Agate. {At door). Pete, Where arc you ? 

Pete. Comin'. Massy — {Falls on spikes of fence and hangs sus- 
pended). Hi! liil help! 

Boy. Pm oEF. Send me some of those nuts when you git 'em, Pete. 
IRuns of across bridge, l. 1 e. Music] 

Pete. Hi! hi! somebody! 

(Deacon, Polly, Agate, Barton and Heywood rush out. Deacon 
and Doctor release Pete. 

Polly. Pete, Pm shocked at you ! Trying to steal ! Do you 
know that you have broken the eighth commandment ? 

Pete, {Rubbing torn spot behind). Hab I ? {Goes off sadly r. 1 e). 

Polly. Its that Hardscrabble Boy. I knew he wouldn't be here a 
minute before he corrupted some one in the village. 

Rose. {Entering from house). Come, you havn't finished tea yet, 
and must hurry up if we are going nutting to night. {All go in ex- 
cept Barton, Rose and Doctor) 

Bar. Pll say good night to you here then. Doctor. 

Doctor. Nons.mse, come in and go with us. Hasn't Rose per- 
suaded you to give up that Western notion ? 

Rose. I haven't finished trying father. 

Doctor. Well, I'll leave you to do so. {Exit. r. d. e.) 

Rose. {Coming down c. uilh Barton). You mustn't leave us, 
Barton. Norwood will not be natural without you. What will 
Alice do without you ? What will I do ? for Pm sure I love you 
as much as she does ; and everybody is proud of you. 

Bar. That is all you ever say to me. Rose. 

Rose. Why, what else could I say, brother ? 

Bar. {Turning away). Brother! {m'h warmth) Rose I {hesitating). 
No, no, for her sake as well as my own I will not speak. 

Rose. {With frank simplicity leading him to seat). Barton, what 
are you thinking of ? {Tenderly). I know that I should love to hear 
what you are thinking. Do tell me. 

{Moonlight shows on trees, etc). 

Bar. {With painful effort). Oh, Rose ! 

Rose. Barton, what is it troubles you ? 

Bar. Rose, things have come upon me to day, I never felt before. 
But I will not give them tongue. A fear that 1 should sacrifice you 
to my own selfish life restrains me. The fear that I have not been 



NORWOOD. 23 

called — that you stand in one place, and I in anotlicr, and that wo 
can never ehiing'c. 

Rose, {'faking Ilia hand ^). Oh, Barton I 
Doctor. {Al Ike duor, r. u. ic.) Kosh 1 
KosE. Yen, i'allici' ! (CoiiccaliiH/ her team). 

Doctor. Yuii have cliiei' cliaig-o and command of our frolic to- 
night, you liMow, and wo ougiit to start. Come, Barton, lad, lie vviso 
and t;'o willi us. {ExU. u, ii ) 

Ji03n. Barton, come, and you can Icll me all lliere. 
JiAii. S|)ai'e jue a refusal ol'y(jiu' ap|)eal. I miiimL put the uiouiitaiiib 
bolween ua. 

KosE. You shan't p:o. Wait till I pet my hat and thinfi^H; we'll hoc 
whose will is strongest. {She taken a ribbon fromlur iieu/c and Ihroixa 
U around Ids). There — consider yourself in eliains till 1 come li.iek. 

{E./:U. into hou^e). 
Bar {Oazeii after her fondhj). Shall I ? — No, I must not stay. She 
was HO g-entle, though ; and yet when I think how iiunu^asurahly hig,h 
she is above mo, I can hardly hope. But I should bo playing with 
my own destiny did 1 leave iier in doubt. 'J'hat is easily (jvereouic. 
{Music. He lalcen hook from /ti.s poclcd, and writen on a leaf an/ollown : — 
" liosE : — Shadow and sunshine arc battling over me iw 1 write — 
my poverty, and the hope of your love. 1 must go — but iris in order 
that 1 may overcome the one and deserve the (jthcr, Tlie silence of 
my heart through years yearns for an expression. Only let ine hear 
one word to say you are not olfctnded." 

{Mooidirjhl fuller and lower. He plucks a bunch of flowers and wraps 
their stems luilh the note). 

Bar. Now to bind tliem. 'J'he very thing. {Takes the ribbon from 
his neck, Imses it. and ties the flowers with it). VVIiorn can I trust with 
it ? No OIK! ; I'll leave it here for her. 

Pete ( Without, 2 e. l.) Who's dar ? 

Bar. The very mm. (Pkte enters, h. 1 v..) Pete, can you do a lltllo 
errand for me ? Give this bunch of flowers to Miss Hose. It's the 
lust favor Pll ask of you, Pete, for I'm going away far from here — not 
to conic back for years. 

Pete. {TipsiUj). Yes, sah. 

Bar. Pete, you've been taking whiskey. 

Pete. Ye«, sah ; but berry slight : jest so much, hardly worth 
drinking, and not worth mentioning. 

Bar. Be careful of this ; give it to no one but her. 

Pkte. Sure, sah! sure! {Oues out, r. 1 e.) 

Bar. Rose, furewell! Now f<u' my mother; then for my struggle 
Willi the world. {E.r.it l. 1 k.) 

( l.'osE runs from the house down c., Doctor iicxt, Alick and Deacon, 
Polly and Hey wood.) 

KosF.. (c.) Where can Barton be ? 

Deacon. My motion is, lot us go, and the young folks can follow 
when they please. 

Doctor. Are you ready. Rose I 

Rose. Yes, father. 

Polly. Where's the rest of the neighbors ? 

Hiram. {Outside). Whoa I {Enterincj l. u. e). Evening' ladies 1 
Doctor, here's the Uagsks and the Woi.cott's and a lot more of them, 
waitin' just down the road for that iiuttin' party to begin. 

Hey. Come, let's bo oil' then. 



NORWOOD. 25 

Alice. I'm ready. {TIeywooo lakes no notice qflwr). 

]{ORE. Cim he liavc gone without ;i good-liyc ! 

(Pete enters r. 1. e.). Oh, 1'ete, have you S(,'cn Bauton? 

Pete Ycs'in ; and ho g^ib me (lis for you 1 {Hands bouquet). 

KofE. Only this ! no letter ? no word ? 

1'ete. Dat was all, Miss Kose, he gib me jest dat and den he gone — 
went. 

KosE. Gone ? 

Pete. Gone, he say, berry far away from here. 

Rose. And uo word ; nothing but these, tied with my own ribbon ; 
returned as though he scorned to keep any relic of me. All is 
over 1 Pshaw I why should I care [Throws (lovquct on lhi>. ground). 
Ha ! ha 1 Come, Mr. Heywooi), are yon ready ? It is a Rlorious moon, 
we'll have a grand night of it. ( Takes his arm, party all going l. u. e.). 

PoiXY. {Lad). Pete, come along, you lazy black man, what have 
you been doing so long '! 

Pete. Pse lieen a iriendin' the eighth commandment what I broke 
climbiu' the tree, Miss Marble 1 {General law^h. LiutUj music). 

Quick Curtain. 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. — Interior of Toi/iMY Tavh'h house. The room is supposed to 
be 0)1 thd secund dory, and to be reichi'd by nlaivH at back 
from below. Old chairs, broken and mended. A rouyh 
cot, L. n., in angle. One chair is made out of hdf a 
barrel, savicdinlwo, with a back made of slams. Shavings, 
etc., at back, in corner. Old saws, etc., on wall ; a couple 
of old ship engravings, and a map also. Rack vnth old 
books on wall at back ; table under it. At n. h. a long 
wide mantle over a capacious fire-place : a log fire in it. 
Medicine bottles of all sizes on mantle. Window at back, 
over stair-case. Clock on wall over bed. 

At rise of curtain Tommy is discovered on bed, and 
Mother Taft sewing in chair by the fire, 

Taft. {Waking up). Ugh, uf?h, uffh. (Cough.) 

MoTiMcit T. (Ooing to him) . Did you Hpouk, father? It'n about 
time for your irK.'dioiui^ 

TaI'-t. (Helped to a silling posture). Doho it out I (MotukhT. given 
him a spoonful, over which he makes grimaces ; finally takes it). Ughl 
damn that iiK.'dicino. (Throirs him f elf back). VVIiat'H tiirio? 

MoTiiKU T. (Sits by cut). Noarly lour. How do you feel ? 

Taft. How hIiouIcI I I(m.'1. (JouliMiudodly diHappiiitod. I drcam't, 
in a doHin' Hoit o'way, that Barton t/'ATiiCART iiad couk; l)acl( froiri tliO 
WoHt, and waH Hittiri' horo Ijy inc. Tiicn J wako up and see a Hcoro 
oi' ni<;dicino hottloH i^rinniug at iiic thuic. What d(jyou put 'em there 
for? 

Mo. T. I'll take tliem away. (Going). 

Taft. (Sharply). I.ot 'em alone. (Milder). Let 'em be, Mother. 
I'm as crabb(,'d aH a lobHter this artenioon. 

Mo. T. (Taking his hand). Oh, no 1 not so bad as that, Tommy. 

Tom. (Crossly). Yen, I am, What arc yer eontrudictiii' u sick 
man fur ? It ujakcs me rile. There'« Home one down Mtaira ? 

Mo T. (Ooing to railing and calling). WIio'h there ? 

Hikam. (lieloui). Me, old lady. 

Mo. T It'H lIiRAM ; may he eome \\\) ? 

Taft. Oh, let him come ; I thought it was the Doctor. 

UiiuM. (Aj/pearing). Thought I was the Doetor, eh 1 Well, itmight 



NORWOOD. 29 

ha' been ; for I see old TcnrMouLD, the undertaker, comin' down the 
street this way Well, Iiow arc we to-day, (jld man? 

Taft. First rate! This weather 'd make a handspike blossom. 

Hiram. Keep your spirits up, eh ? 

Taft. Jolly as a crew just paid off. (Crossly). What do you want 
to know for ? 

Hiram. [To Mrs. Taft, r. h.). Cross some ; ain't he. Mother? 

Taft. What if I am ? Don't they all tell me I'm in a bad way I 
Goin', says the Doctor; Comin', says the Undertaker; Parson wantin' 
to pray over me; neighbors thinkin' it's time to drop in and take a 
look at me. And me, a great, strong, rough fellow, layin' hpre like 
a log, to be dosed and prayed for, and talked about. Goin' — dyin'. 
Dyin'I ( With emotion.) Uamme ! and Barton a thousand miles away. 
Why don't he come ? I'm livin' on the hope of his comin'. Let me 
see him and Turfmould may come in and welcome. 

Hiram. (IbMo. T.) Always thinkin' of Barton. 

Mo. T. Yes ; more than ever. 

Hiram. Never mind. Tommy ; his time's 'most up to come home. 
Cheer up. {Noise bchnv). 

{Noise of some one falling over barrels heard below. Hardsrcabble boy 
calls out " Hi.'') 

Taft. See who's there! 

Mo. T. T'hey 've tumbled over the barrels. 

Boy. {Be!(jw). Hi ! 

Mo. T. It's one of the Hardscrabble lot. 

Taft. Come up, you lubber ; don't strike on the rocks. 

Boy. All right, ole boss ! {Appears half way up stairs, and looks 
through the balustrades). Where are you, Tommy 1 

Hip.AM. What do you want? 

Boy. Barrels. 

Taft. I ain't got your barrels. 

Boy. I know yer haint. 

Taft. Then what d'ye come here sayin' barrels for ? 

Boy. Brought some ; want 'em mended. 

Taft {Roaring). Take 'em away agin! D'ye hear ? Don't you 
see I'm sick. What d'ye bring barrels to a sick man to be 
mended fur ? 

Boy. {Incredulously, and coming up another step, his arms folded on 
the bannister). What are yer ? 

Taft. I'm sick ! 

Boy. Gammon I (Tommy makes an eforl to clutch a boot to fling oX 
him, but falls back exhausted). I know ye're shammiu'. It won't do. 
Will yer, or won't yer mend them 'are barrels ? {No answer). I say, 
ole woman : is he sick, for fair ? 

Mo. T. Yes ; he's veiy sick. Don't make a noise. 

Boy. Do tell ! {After apause, and very gravely). I know what'll 
cure him ! 

HiRAM. What is it? 

Boy. Kick i'm. That's the way they does with me up at Hard- 
scrabble when I'm sick. (Hiram goes to the fire, r. ; sits). 

Turf. (Below). Whoa ! whoa ! 

Boy. Who's that at my horse ? (Euns to window, opens it, and 
hangs half out). Hi! you, there ; let 'em be 

Taft. Hiram, I ain't worry well ; now if you'd go over there and 
help the rest of that boy out o' that window I'd feel obliged. 

(Mo. Taft. takes kettle from fire, goes to table, mixes lea for Hiram), 



NORWOOD. 31 

Boy {Speaking to those inside). It's Turfmould, the Bcxton ; hero 
ho is I (TuHFMOULD cumea up the dairs). Siiy, olo man ; lend us a 
skull to play ball willi. Won't ycr ? Any olo skull you ain't got no 
usofui'I {'I'vuFiwm.v passea ivilhoul heeclirif/). Say, will ycr? (IIiram 
throws one o/'Taft's ^/loe.s at him Boy exits down atairx). 

(TuHF. shakes hands icilh Mo. Taft and Uikam, solemnbj. He is a 
solemn vian, but wiqfj'ertedly so). 

Taft. Hallo, TuhfmouldI (^(S'Aate hands with him. T. sits by bed). 
Fine weather. Pretty busy just now, Elil Buried the minister's 
wife yesterday, didn't you; slio had a fine bui'yin'l 

TunF. Yes, Mr, Taft, line funeral. I've been in the business thirty 
years odd, and I've done most of the respectable buryin' hereabouts, 
and it was a good funeral. 

IJiram, I thought the hull country had turned out. Such a lot of 
carriages. 

TuuF. Yes, it was very like Sunday. 

Taft. Pretty coffin. Eh, Turffy 1 

Turf. Never better. Pooi- thing, I know her taste — she was awful 
neat. I made it just as she'd a liked it — dusted every corner of it 
before I put her in, — to oblige her. 

Taft. It must have been very edifyin', Tubf. 

Hiram. Everything depends on tho way the funeral's managed, 
Tuuffy ! 

TuHF. Ah, Yes ! Look at that funeral of Bidwell's wife, now. 
They put the grievin' husband in the coach with his sister-in-law, 
and they liked to quarreled all the way. Old Bidwei.l told me all 
about it. Says he, "If ever I have another funeral, Turfmould, you 
shall have it, for that Jones is no sort of undertaker; he just spoiled 
my wife's whole luneral, and I did not take a bit of comfort in it 
from beginnin' to end." 

Taft. Ah! Its wery true, Turffy; if 1 go you shall do for me, 
Tuuffy; I wouldn't have no other man alive ! 

Turf. It's wery good o' you to say that. Tommy. I'll do my wcry 
best for you, sure. Talkiiig of funerals. Tommy, how do you feel to- 
day ? {Sits up by him closer). 

Hiram. {To Mo. Taft, ivho gives him the cup of tea; — pointing to 
Turf). VV^ell, if that ain't better nor medicine, I ain't do judge o' 
killin'. 

Mo Taft. Why, if there ain't tho Deacon ! 

[Deacon andFoLLY come up stairs, a. 

Poi.i.Y. {Shaking hands with Mo T., solemnly. Mo. T. very humble). 
Ah ! Mo. Taft, It is sad to think of affliction. 

Deacon. Come, Polly, don't dash their spirits — try and cheer them 
up. 

Polly. Don't interfere. Deacon. I do believe you'd like me to laugh 
right out in the chamber of death. {Stdl more solemnly going to Taft, 
who sits up to receive her. Slie sits on one side of him, luhile I'uufjiould 
Siis on the other. Mo. Taft placing a chair for tier). I pity you, 
Taft, very much. (Mo. Taft goes to fire-place.) 

Taft, {Shortly). Tiiank ye, ma'am. 

Polly. Don't be touchy, Taft; you know you're sick, and yon know 
you're sinful. 

Deacon. {Who has been shaking hands with Mo. Taft and Hiram.) 
Come, Polly, now don't. 

Taft. How arc ye. Deacon ? Lot her go on, I can stand it. 



NORWOOD. 33 

PoLi.Y. Have you had the Doctor ? 

Taft. Yes, but what can he do for eyef? that are worn out, and for 
innards that's used up 1 Why, he couldn't even do aiiythiuj? for my 
wooden leg ! And, if he can't doctor that, what kin he do for flesh 
and bh)od. {Alt laugh). 

HiBAM. That's so, old salt! (Polly and Tl'bf. roll up their eyes.) 

Polly. {Silencing D^&Acati andldiRtM with a look). My friend, you 
are near the grave. 

Taft. Well, I ought to he. I've been travellin' straight to it for 
over seventy year. 

Polly. Have you made your preparations ? 

Taft. No, I left all that to Tukfmould; he's my man; I W(in't have 
no other. {Winks at Deacon). 

Polly. Ah, Taft! I don't know what to make of you. 

Taft. Don't make anything of me. I'm made already, and you're 
too late. {She and TvHF. groan). Hallo ! some one's below. {Looking 
and listening towards stairs). 

Deacon. No ! 

Taft. Yes, I tell you. It sounded like — like Barton 1 

Deaion- Why, he's out West ! 

Tait. Is hel {Absently). Well, I was mistaken; — No! there is 
eome one. [Music] (Rose and Alice come up stairs. They each have 
a basket. R(jse gives her's to Alice as they reach the top step, and Alice 
goes to Mo. Taft, who comes to meet them.) Why, it's Miss PiOSE and 
Miss Alice ! 

Rose. (^Running to him). Yes, we are here Tommy. (Tdrf. and Polly 
rise, cross over to fire, giving their places to Alice and Rose. 

Alice. Why, how rosy you look to-day. Uncle Tom ! 

Deacon. Bless 'em ! tliat's the medicine for a sick man. 

Polly. Deacon, he needs something for his soul. 

Deacon. Polly, there's danger of physickin' a man's eoul too much, 
and then he turns agin' it. 

[Hiram and Deaco.v hel}) Mo. Taft to take things out of baskets; and 
Polly and Turf go to window.] 

Taft, Now, it's mortal good o' you young gals to come and see 
such an ole wessel as 1 am. I've had Turfmould — who is the grave; 
and Aunt Polly — who is the world beyond it ; and now I breathe a 
little freer, for you are both fresh and beautiful, like the life we're 
livin' in. 

Alice. But the Spring is here now, Tom, the Spring! and you'll 
soon be better. Then Rose has such news for you ; good news. 

Taft. Good news! Say it again. 

Alice. Good news ! There; Rose shall tell you all about it. 

[Goes up to table with Mo. Tafp; shows preserves and things in basket. 

Taft. Is it ? It isn't about ? 

Rose. Yes, it is about Barton; he's coming home. 

Taft. I know'd it ! I know'd it ! 

Rose. Father's got a letter from him; he may be expected in three 
or four days. 

Taft. Aiu't you glad, little gal; ain't you fit to jump up and dance: 
don't tliat news je.s' make you grow 1 

Rose. Do you think I ought ever to be glad again to see him, Uncle, 
after the way he left me ? — Not a word — not a line of writing to say 
even "good bye"; nothing but a few flowers tied with my own ribbon, 
that he scorned to keep. 
5 



NORWOOD. 35 

Taft. Ain't I told you dozens o' times I knows there's some mis- 
take about that 'ere. It warn't Barton's way; them flowers, I know, 
was given a tongue to say prettier things to you than you ever 
heard, if thoy could only be made to speak. 

RosR. But they have never spoken, and in my little desk at home 
they lie voiceless and dcjul. 

Taft. Well, he's coniin', and this here's got to be cleared up, and 
afore I goes, too; 1 can't die .■ind not see that boy agin'; there'.s but 
one Barton Catiicart in the worhl, and it other folks don't know his 
value, I do; I can't die till I've asked him — till he tells me. (Rose 
looks down). There! don't blush; 1 won't say a word to him, and ho 
shall speak out of his own big heart. 

Polly. {Coming down). Well, I hope when Barton docs come he'll 
put you on the right and virtuous track, Thomas Taft, and tell you 
what is to become of you. 

Taft. Exactly 1 and whatever Barton says I'll do, for it will bo 
right. 

Alice. {Coming behind him) . Can't I help you, Uncle Tommy; ain't 
I as good as Bakton ? 

Taft. Bless your lovely face, you are almost as good as Barton's 
self ; but I want to see Barton about many things. They tell me I'm 
going. Where? Now, wherever Barton leads I'm going; I don't care 
much for myself, but I want to keep by him. liarkl {All listen). 

Rose. What is it? 

Polly. His tantrums again ; he's always hearing something. 

Turf. It's the wind, old friend. 

Taft. The wind don't come like the footsteps you love. Hark 
again. {Pause). 

Deacon. I hear nothing but the tickin' of the clock. 

Alice. Its just four. 

Hiram. And it's goin' to strike ; the darned old thing goes on a 
regular bust when it strikes. 

[Tlie clock commences ivith a whirr to strike; Tommy looks towards 
the stairwayl . 

Barton. {Below). Where are you, Tommy Taft. \_ All start amazed]. 

Taft. Ila I {Rising to his feel). 

(Barton runs up stairs ; Alice runs to greet him; he kisses her; then 
runs and embraces Taft. Rose at left, shy. Rest on r. by fire-place 
arid up.) 

Bar. Sister ! What, old friend ! 

Taft. My boy ? I knew it. I heard you. They said it was the 
wind ; it was a good wind that brought you home. But look round 
you. Barton, — who's there 1 

(Barton sees Rose ; advances, honestly takes her hand). 

Barton. Miss Wentwortfi! 

Taft. {Throwing himself back on bed). Oh, the blamed idiot I 

Alice. Oh I Barton, you liavu come back so soon. {He looks 
curiously at her). But not a bit sooner than we wished. 

Bar. (c.) And how are all in Norwood, — all the friends. {All cluster 
about him, and shake hands). 

Alice. Lots of changes. Barton. 

Hiram, Ya-as, lots 'o changes ; some on 'em by sarcumstances, 
and some on 'em by time. 

Deacon. The troubles and dissensions that have fallen on our land 
have been felt even here. (Alice turns her head sadly away). 



NORWOOD. 37 

Bar. HEYwaoD ? 

Alice, lie iias gone south to liis friends. 

TuBF. He tlioug-ht he'd rather be in the bosom of his family. 

Polly. Here, don't you folks monopolize 1 Gome over here, Bauton, 
and give us a chance to look at him. 

(Barton <jops up b. viilh the group, which is augmented by four or five 
neighbors, farmers, their wives and children, who enter and shake 
hands with him). 

KosE. {Going to Taft, who now sits up in bed, admiring Bjlkios). So 
your wish is granted. 

Taft. Yes, but not the only one. I see him come back ; see him 
togettier with those ho loves. Who will be the one to send him 
away from Norwood again ? Not you, Miss Rose I (Rose turns 
aside). 

Barton. (Crossing to Taft). I heard of your illness, Tommy, old 
friend, and I traveled fast. Don't think of being ill, man, when 
there's so much to live for now. (Rose crosses to Alice, r.) 

Taft. Ah ! they talk through the States of war. I have fought my 
fight, and I give place to better men. 

Polly. (Coming c.) F'ight ! pshaw; if there were less talk of 
fighting I'd believe there'd be some 

Hiram (r. c. j Wa-al, I reckon if there's to be any, Norwood can 
send her little fistful. We've been in training. {Crowd groups at back). 

TcRF. (l. c.) It is melancholy to contemplate After a battle they 
never have a decent funeral. 

Alice. It is awful to think of meeting as enemies the friends we 
love. (Sinks in chair by fireplace; Rose l. of her). 

Bar What do you say. Miss ? 

Taft. (Tugging his sleeve, and aside). If you call her Miss Weot- 
wokth again in my hearin' I'll hit you with old smasher. (Points to 
unstrap/jjed leg ). 

Bar. (Smites). What do you say to fighting. Rose. 

Rose. I wait to hear you ; you know I always echoed your deci- 
sions. Do you think there'll be war ? 

All. (In various tones). War I Nonsense! (Smiling, and turning 
aside). 

Bar. There 18 war 1 (All attention). The first blow has been struck. 
Sumter has been fired upon. This was the news that the telegraph 
was flashing over the country as I came homewards. 

Deacon. (Excited). Hurray I hurray I 

Polly. Deacon, what are you hurrayin' for ? Is this a cause for 
rejoicing ? 

Deacon. Hang it, Polly, a man must let out ; a Deacon ain't any 
more nor less than a man. I'll run out and spread the news 

Turf. You go up the street, Deacon, and I'll go down. 

Polly. (Catching Deacon's coat-tail). Deacon, where are you 
going ? 

Deacon. Let me go, woman I Let me gol What do you know 
about war ? {Beep bell heard.) 

Taft. The church bell ! {All transfixed). It calls us out. Oh I if 
I were not a sick man. 

(Murmurs without Rose runs to the window, and looks oui.) 

Rose. The road is all excitement. They have heard the news. 

Hiram. (At windoio also). Ain't they blaziu' 1 The mail's just come 
in, and they're readinLthe papers. ( Three loud and hearty cheers 



init 

bay 



VfUhout). Hi t you boy there ; what is it 1 



NORWOOD. 39 

Hardscrabble Boy. (Outnide). Jest wait 1 

{Bell continued till end of scene Hiram watches stairs/or him. Rose 
goes to Alicr. Boy enters with " Herald" open. 

Boy. Ain't you hoard the ncwH ? There's war 1 Here's the Pre- 
fiident'fi i'r(jclamati()ri. 

Bar. (c.) Give it to me (Takes paper. All group around. Hiram 
gets (in chair behind, with Boy). " A Proclamation by tiie President 
of the United States. WhoreaH, the laws of the United States have 
been for some time past, and now are, opposed, and the execution 
thereof obstructed in certain States and Territories : Now, therefore, 
I, Abraham Lincoln, in virtue (jf the powers in me vested by the 
Constitution and by the laws, have thought fit to call forth, and do 
hereby call forth tiie militia of tlie several .States <jf the Union, to 
the aggregate number of 75,000, in order to suppress said com- 
binations, and to cause the laws to be duly executed." {All uncover. 
Bell). 

Rose. Oh, Barton ! What is to be done? 

Bar. But one thing t Let every man leave his hearthside, his 
plough, his axe, and anvil! gather to the call of our country — just 
as if, in the middle of his labors, he heard the cry of terror from the 
mother that nurtured him, he would fly to her aid, and give his own 
life to preserve hers. 

{Tableau ! Scene closes in). 



SCENE II A Roadside Cottage near Norwood. Door in Cottage ; 

Window above. Night falling. 

Pete enters [r. l. e.J counting on his fingers. 

Pete. Dat makes twenty ob thoin altogether — four down the Souf 
road, four in Squilltown, 'leben round Norwood and one in Hard- 
scrabble. Twenty recruits to be drummed up, an' only one in llard- 
scralible. Dar am oidy one patriot in dat place. 

IIahdscrdbble Boy. {Without). Sa-ay, Pete! 

Pete. Here's one ob dem .Scrabblers. 

Boy. {Entering). I say, Pete, is Barton Cathcakt raisiu' a company 
to start for the war ? 

Pete. Yes he am. 

Boy. He's to be cap'n ? 

Pete. Yes. 

Boy. Where's he gittin' the men 1 

Pete. All 'round; 'leben men put down dar names two miles 'round 
the village; twenty men in it, and nine ob 'em in the neighborhood 
adjoinin' de vicinity ob dis place. 

Boy. Lor' 1 I say Pete. 

Pete. Well? 

Boy. When do they git ? 

Pete. What? 

Boy. When do they march — start — git ? 

Pete, Oh! dis night; I'm 'round to notify 'em. 

Boy To-night, Lor'l when do they git there ? 

Pete. Where? 



NORWOOD. 41 

Boy. Why, the place where Ihe war is. 

Pete. Massy on us! why, dat's thousands an' millions ob miles 
away; dey don't git there not for montlis and months. 

Boy. Well, if they ain't agoin' to git there for so long, what's the . 
hurry for now ? 

Pete. Dat's de pintl You spose dey go right into war, slap ? Why, 
dey'd git killed sure. No, dey go roun' an' roun'; den de enemy dey 
goes roun' an' roun'; an' den ddy hofo goes back an' roun' again. 

Boy. Oh! that's war is it ? 

Pete. Oli no ! dat's stratumgy; dere's alius more stratumgy dan 
dere is war, alius ! 

Boy. Well, but don't they fight at all. 

Pete. Yes; when dc plans for niarcliin' roun' an' roun' git flus- 
trated an' dey happens to meet accidentally, den dey has a fight out 
ob vexation. 

Boy. I say Pete, who will they take for sojers ? 

Pete. Any free white American citizen as thinks he can stand it. 

Boy. Won't they take darkies? 

Pete. No sahl dis am not our business — not jes yit. 

Boy. What, ain't you a goin' ? ^ 

Pete. Oh, Pm a goin'; but for fear I might do too much execution 
on de enemy an' end de war too soon, I ain't to be allowed to fight. 
When de stratumgy gits played out we niggers is to hab a chance. 

Boy. I say Pete, how old must a fellow be to git in with 'em and 
go to the war ? 

Pete. Old enough to keep up wid de party when dey gits on a re- 
treat. 

Boy. {Confidentially). What do you think of boys, eh? Little fel- 
lows — ain't they to hj^ve no chance '( 

Pbte. Oh, we'll see about dat in time. 

Boy. I say, Pete, you know I live at Hardscrabble; well, we ain't 
thought much of, are we ? Cos' why ? Cos' we jus' grubs along, and 
the folks here says we ain't got no souls; but 1 should like to go to 
the wart 

Pete. You ? Why yon ain't fourteen yit; you's not the figger; you 
couldn't stand it, you couldn't. 

Boy. Try me; jes give me a chance; speak to the cap'n about me, 
will you ? Don't you think they'd take me, Pete ? 

Pete. Now jes' look at dat 1 who'd s'pose dem little fellers had it 
in 'em. Kin you shoot? 

Boy. No, but I can do something jes' as good — I can drum for 'em. 

Pete. Sho' now, kin yer 1 Now we nebber thought ob dat; we mus' 
hab a drnmmer, I guess. 

Boy. You ain't got no one else from Hardscrabble, have you ? 

Pete. Yes, dere's one man, Josh Bilsky. 

Boy. Josh Bilsky 1 why he was only married last week. 

Pete. I know; but he says on de whole he radder go to de war. 

Boy. Where shall I meet the company, Pete, 

Pete. By de big elms ; ten o'clock to-niglit. Golly, here 1 bin a 
talkin' an' all de men to warn yit. Look yah 1 you know dis place 
putty well — whar' am Blakely's 1 Pni got to notify Blakkly. 

Boy. Blakely's ! — Why, here it is, this house here; Lor', is he one 
of 'em ? 

Pete. Yes 1 {Goes to door and knocks). 

Boy. You'll have to knock louder'n that if you want him to go to 
6 



NORWOOD. 43 

the war. (Pete knocks again) . What'll his raarm say? She won't 
let him go. They'se got too many cattle, and they can't spare him. 
I eay, Pktr, I'll drive my horses hum, and run down to the elms 
agin'. Don't start without me, will you 1 

[Exit. B. 1. E. Note of w'lip heard. Pele knocks at door again; 
Dame Blakely appears at nindow]. 

Dame. Who's there? What do you want? 

Pete. j\m Ckthas Blakkly in de house ? 

Dame. No! Who's that? You vagabond Pete — git along with you. 

Pete. Look yah! I is come in de name ob de Gov'ment to order 
him to turn out dis night and start for de war! 

Dame. Nonsen.se! it's too damp to-night; he'll come after you, an' 
wc can't spare him yit! 

Pete. If he don't come the Gov'ment will be down arter him. 

Dame. (Shouting inside) Anoy 1 

Voice. (Within). Well Mar! 

Dame. Run tell Cephas the company's gitting ready to go, and ho 
must come up and git his trunk packed right away. [Ent], 

P^TE. Dar's one off my hand.s; Les' see, who am de nex' one? Yah, 
yah! only to think the most imperdent of all dcm Hard.scrabble boys 
am dc only one got spunk enough to go to de war for d(! sake ob 
fighting. [Exit, L. 1 B.] 

[Enter Barton moodily, r]. 

Barton. And must I leave Norwood again with all I hoped for 
Blill undone; not a word — not a line from Kose to tell me the secret 
other heart; never a word of my letter — nay, if she had never seen 
it she could not have been more silent. Sister! 

[Enter Alice, b. 1 e.] 

Alice. Dear Barton, you are dispirited again; Why have you not 
seen Rose ? They all expected you at tlie house, to say " Good bye." 
Oh, Barton, how sad it seems to me to utter that word now. You 
sever seemed so dispirited as to-night. What can I do to make you 
happy ? 

Bar. It is nothing, sister ! (IlaJf apart). Perhaps she does not 
wish to wound me by telling me I have hoped and loved too vainly, 
and that I must dismiss that love which I have cherished both with 
pain and cheer. And yet I would not have been without it, for it 
has made so much of my life that if it were taken out scarce anything 
would remain worth keeping. 

Alice. Dear Barton 1 — 

Bar. Forgive me, Alice. It is I who should be cheerful, in order 
to chase away your sadness. Remember, sister ( placing hia arm about 
her waist), it is but for a little while we part. There will come a time 
for re-uniting heart to heart, and there will come many happy days 
for both of us. 

Alice. This dreadful war ! Think, Barton, you may meet in the 
country of your enemies the face of some friend. 

Bar. Heywood — 

Alice. Never ; he will never be found under the new flag. Do not 
slander, even by a thought, one who is absent and cannot answer for 
himself. 

Bar. Alice, you defend him ! ( Takes her hand and looks intently into 
her /ace.) 

Alice. (Dropping her head). Oh! Barton, I had to say it. It, would 
be spoken. 



NOKWOOD. 45 

Bar. Dear sister I We are both of us then to feel the same pain — 
to love without hope 1 

Alice. Then, at least, we can understand each other's grief : can 
share it Come brother, let us live for one another's happiness. Who 
knows! perhaps, it will repay us for all we lose beside. 

{They go of together, l. 1 e.) 



SCENE III. — TTw Elms. A woody section with village scene inperspec- 
tive. Large elm C-, with spreading branches. Night. As 
scene opens a Utile group is discovered ; farmers leaning 
on all varieties of guns. Tuefmould, Deacon, and Judge 
Bacon in c, conversing as if arguing. The farmers have 
their farm clothes on ; some with blanket-coats, some with 
blankets. In this scene none of the recruits are uniformed. 
A pine-torch stuck by tree, c, lights the scene. 

Turf. Where's the Captain ? 

Hiram. {Entering, l. 2 e.) Oh, he'll be here on time. Sayin' his 
good byes, I reckon, to everj' woman and child in Norwood; but he 
might 'a spared liimself the trouble — they'll all be here to see us off. 

Turf You're in a dreadful hurry to be fightin', Mr. Beers. Ohl its 
awful, this killin' folks. 

HiR. Shet up, you old owl. 

Judge. Well, its quite proper to look on war as a dreadful thing, 
Hiram. 

HiR. I tell you, Judge, this thing's got to be fought out, that's 
eartin'; and we won't have nobody hanging back at home. 

Turf. I hope nothing rash will be done, and the thing will quietly 
subside. 

HiR. Subside ! I tell you it won't subside. You can't come to the 
end of it without fightin'! You might as well expect to have a day 
of judgment, and nobody hurt. 

Deacon. Well, I'm a peaceable man, but I can't help saying out 
loud the time's come. You can't help it; — I don't want to help it. I 
wish I had a house full of boys- — everyone of 'em should go. I never 
felt the vally of boys till now. 

Hiram. Three cheers for the Deacon ! Hip, hip. {All hurrah, ex- 
cept the Judge and Deacon. Enter Uardscrabble Boy l. S e., breathless 
mlh drum, big hat, and a coat reaching to his heels). 

Boy. (c.) Am I in time ? 

Hiram, (l. c.) In time — what for ? 

Boy. I'm a goin' with yer. 

Hiram. What I You ? Hurray for Hardscrabble. Look at this 

Judge . Even the little fullers. Shake hands, Hardscrabble. 

Kin you drum ? 

Boy. Kin I what ? {Gives a roll). What's that! 

Hiram. Good! {Enter two farmer recruits through wood at back). 
Here's more on 'em, Judge ; lots more in sight. Give 'em a taste, 
Hardscrabble, to hurry 'em up. {Boy rolls drum). Good! {Three 
more men enter). This way, boys ! 



NORWOOD. 47 

Deacos. Kcc^p at it, sonny 1 IIltc come the lads from Snow Ilill. 
(Goen and meets three ntoru farmirn ; shaken hands; they all depoait 
their gum and weap'ms as they enter against the tree or in stacks, and 
gather in knots at the back). 

Hiram. Almost ten o'clock. Where's Pete? 

1'ete. {Entering with Gathcart's sword, &c.) Here, Mr. Brers. 
Why, (lai's du boy. 1 thought he wouldn't come after he leff. Bresa 
de little heart. {3Iore men enter from B. Enter Barton, l. u. e., 
dressed in Captain's uniform. All hurt ah.) 

Bar. Boys, I'm glad to sec you so prompt. What drum was 
that? 

Boy. Mine. I was the feller. 

Bab. Brave little heart 1 Y(m shall have a place in the regi- 
mental band. 

Fkte. Are we to hab' a ban', Cap'n ? 

Bar. The company from Cold llill, which i.s to meet us here, have 
orgaiiiz(.-d a baud. (Barton goes c, wi'h Deacon, Judge, Turf, and 
Hiram j. 

Pete, Hurray for that 1 Give 'em another touch, sonny ! (Bor 
drums, more recruits enter.) 

L)b. WE.sTwoRrH {Outside). Ah! all here ? 
Deacon. The ladies. 

(Dr. Wentworth, Rose, Alice, Polly, ^fARBr.E and Aoate enter r. 2 e.) 
Polly. Come to say " Good bye," Barton. Good bye I If the 
Deacon was a younger man p'raps he'd be with you too. 

Deacon. Only say the word, Polly, and PU go now. {They retire 
up R. She dis-ients ) 

(Alice, Agate and Hiram tal/c together. Tlie Doctor and rest. Rose 
conies c. to Barton.) 

Rose. You will write to us — to me — Barton. It seems so sad ; 
Norwood sees you so little. You have no sooner returned home, than 
you go again. 

Bar. 1 donl't know how it is. Rose, but in Norwood I am like the 
sailor in mid ocean, thirsty, and beautiful water everywhere, but 
nought to quench my thirst. I went away but found uo peace. I 
come back and find it not. Now I shall go where my heart will still 
itself amid a conflict more fearful than its own. 

Rose. {Turning half asiae). If he would but speak {half smiling). 
I know it is hard to keep yuu among us. I {with timid glance at 
him), I tried once to chain you to Norwood. (Barton starts). Do 
you remember! {He takes her hand ardently ) . And you cast off the 
chain. {Withdraws her hand) . 

Bar. I gave it back to you. 

Rose. You returned it with a little bunch of flowers. I kept the 
flowers {he is eager and attentive) till they withered, and I thought, 
perhaps, it was well you sent them ; for sweet and odorous at first 
like your friendship, they turned to dust at last. 
Bar. {Coldly). And that was what you wished. 
Rose. What I wished {impulsively), Barto.v ? {She checka heraelf. 
Distant military band heard). 

Bar. {Stdl reserved). You speak. 

KoiE. No ; I have nothing to say ! Yes ! " Good bye." You will 
find me when you come back the same. {She gives him her hand. 
Ihe Jiagers touch. Tney turn aside from each other. Part coldly. 
Rose goes r. Alice comes to her). 



KOEWOOD. 49 

Bar. (c.) Good bye I (Aside, despondingly) . And bo we part 
(Band heard much nearer). All is over I (Aloud, with energy) 
Come, boys 1 It is time I ( The men go off' rapidly r. u e ) 

Alice. brotlior I (Buns and embraces him) 

Bar. Alice 1 Good bye 1 (Kisses her). 

Polly Marble leads Alice to r. Doctor goes beside Rose. Dea- 
con shakes hands icith Barton. Boy rolls the drum. Pete 
buckles on Barton's sword. Music Forte. The band passes at 
back from r. to l., headed by two men with pine torches, the Boy 
joins the ranks, and the recruits and other soldiers follow with 
flags, etc. Agate, Polly, Doctor, and Deacon keep running to 
shake hands with Barton, while soldiers pass, and as curtain falls. 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 

SCENE 1. A portion of (he field of GellyHhurr/ before lad daifH hatlle. 
The hour in svppOHed to be about midiright. The curtain 
rine.-i upon a Tableau. At the hack in pirKpeclive ix Keen a 
dimi'drred field, illiiviinalcd in a (ihaHly manner by the 
laxt rayR of the moon, which is about netting. On mounds 
and hillocks are seen dismounted cannon, dead horses, 
broken ivagons, wheels, dc. Tents here and there, Jrom 
which faint lights are seen. Sentries are leaning on their 
guns. 

On the stage, n. u. e., in the hospital tent, staff without 
flag. In a couple of sli'lter tents at l. are stretchers, upon 
which wounded soldiers lie. Rose is standing by one, 
Ai.ici! kneelinfj by the other as if in the act of lending 
sick or wounded. At back, a party of four are carrying 
a wounded man. IIinAM is directing them to a little shelter 
tent, H. 2 E., beside which Agate Bissei.i. is standing hold- 
ing open the canmss. A sentinel is leaning on his musket, n. 
c. Around a flickering campfire, c, a group of weary 
soldiers are sleeping. Turfmould is seated on a drum, his 
head resting in his hands, while the HARDScnAnDi.K Boy is 
lying on the ground, his head resting on 'J'urkmoiii.d's 
knee A stack of arms 'immediately behind the group, r. 
and L. 1 E., large ambulance wagons are seen. 

Music as curtain rises, and the scene becomes alixx. 
Under the direction of Hiram, the men carry the htler into 
tent, v.. n. KotLtv. tends the soldier. Uiram goes off" i.. after 
seeing the action done. Rose leaving the lent l., sees Irish 
soldier seated on broken box at door of tent, with his leg 
and head ttandagen, smoking a pipe. 

Rose. Can I do anything more for you, my poor fellow 7 
Irish Soldikr. Elil lilcssycr party face, rna'ani, nothing at all, ex- 
cept ye could let me look at you agin. 



NonwooD. 53 

Robe. You rniiy do that aw nnicli an you pIoaBO, if it will ),< |„ you 
to K'-'t bf;tl(;r. 

ImsH Somiikh Got boKor, ma'ml Faifh )!,!« army cort.n ,-<•(„ on 
itH lf«H again faHior than any o(l,<,r in Iho wholo ,„iuitiy an.i ItH 
by raiHon of yo'H hlf:HHf:<], pmty HainlH, „u,l that ohi nnK"') <>v<:r 

*"'"■ /r .• (K'lHii; f/rifH hrick hilo tMrd). 

Ai.ir.K {LmdmrjoutpoorHohlier whouHFHarrulrh). Can yon rcafh 
th(! arrjIiuhuK;*; ? I will go willi yon. 

WowNnn/. Man. Thank'y, ma'am! Yon aro vrry g„o<l It,, only 
a Kt-niin, and yon'vo (ixcrl thai. u\, ho well ll,a(. [ f,|,„|| |„; ready for 
<lNly to-rnorrow. ^^,„,„_ /,,„,y„ /,,,^, ,^V^ „ 

Iiarti. Soi.rwKK. I-aix thnn, tl,..ro'H wan r,' tlicm. Nr,w if it had 
been tho I)o(;toi(, hoVl have <:nl tho poor f(;lh,w'H foot off 

{Thr.HohlirrH who rarricd the voundcd midicr lo Aoatk's Irvl and 
who haiK Hloppv.d ovlnde., now. in ijowij og , had a monw.rd hy lh>: Camrj- 
Jtrn.^ Una of /.hem I'jic.alcH lo 'VvuvwnnAt) : 

.Souilica. Who an; tlioHo ladicH I 
/IW. Them? Why, it'H tlio old one nn,| tl,.: y„nng dov.^n There 
aintmany hoyH in IhiH diviHion that d<n,'l, l<„„w Molher l!,M,a.u. and 
tlie lioHK o( Norwood. 

II. l5oy It makoH a feller h,.el ie«H hlller at leavin' h-,m<., wh..n 
there H hucIi a mother and Hiieh HlHtom to he found even \u-v<- 

Au, TIIK SOMIIKIIH. 'rhal.'H HO I 

AfMTK i(J,nniwj forward). .\ow, hoyn, ean I do anyll,ing („r 
you r J I-, 

Au. THi; Sor.niKiiH Oood evenin^.^ mother ! Good r;veni,ig, Ma'am! 
lii.AM (hnl,rn,<,frmnK wdh I. UU, drummer boy in hinarmn, vound- 
Crfj^ Ilere'H a little. /eller'H got hurt, Annly ; ho HayH he knov^H you. 

W,u,,K I 'H me ; your Willie I Don't, you know me, Aunty IJ.Lll. 
^^ AoATK. Why HO It iH Wm-uk I Why how yon have grown, and ho 

IIiiiAM. 'Taint roHCH, Aunty— il'H Idood ! 

AOAHC, SoitiHl poor little Hnfferor I hring him here Hn,AV.--ho 
gent now-gcntly, thafn it. r/'X.;« UnuM i„lo Lt „ 

IrnHnSouMKu, l-aix, hnt I had a mighty poor opinion of ould maidH 
onc:e_hu hedad, that ould 'un Ih like ten motlHMH rowled into one 

iUHr. And tho two young gain; what eonid pernuade them to 

-L7mor''irki'llH v" ''""^''' ""'''''^''" '' ^'''"'^' '^'"' "" '"" '"" '■'"^'' 

^^!:£.i:t;li'■t::^^ ^ '"'• •■''' 

JRIHH Hou.iKK. 'Hh I lioro th(;y come— aiHy I (Mumr) 

(Aiioic comeH down i.., mcrln Aoatk, and both come o. to fir., an 

the mm all withdraw quietly vp the nlaye. Horn comen forward 

tended? (l^''"' ^''''r.' ^""^ ''" r.'" "'■'' '^'""^ ''' ''''"^ i""" ''^l'"^" "" 
well tiled out. (KoHK and Amck mt on the yround on edher Lie If 

Kobe. My poor patienln are almoHt all aHleep; and they lo,,k «o 
happy when they „l.,.ep. I've watehed them, and'i He-e n tin uh^' 

their' facoi' '^"' """''^'*^ '*" "'"-■" ''"'^ '"^'"^^ "'■ ''■'^"' '■^'''" ""' 



NORWOOD. 55 

Alicr. And when they wake, how eagerly they look about them; 
and when they see us, how their faces liglit up I 

Rose. One of them said to me tiie other day: " Oh, Miss, you make 
me tliiiik of my sister." " Is she at home?'' I asked. "No, Miss, she 
is dead! but I see her before me in my dreams, bright Hke an angel; 
and vvh(,'ii I wake and .see yon, I think she's tiicn; still." 

Alice. Poor fellow! (lienting her head in Agale\'i lap). 

Agate. ( With a quiet uniff). One of them told me, the otlicr day, 
I reminded him of his grandmother! 

KosE and Alice. Oh, Aunty I 

Agate. I asked him why, and ho said she was almighty coarse in 
the bark, but soft in the wood. {With a good humored laugh), I'd 
half a mind to put some pepper in his poukii;e, I can tell you. 

Alice. Do they show you the daguerreotypes they brought from 
Lome, Rose ? 

Rose. Yes; and I've had them confide such dear little stories to 
me. There's always sure to b(; some one somewhere, for whose sake 
they want to beconje colonels and generals. 

Alice. How they seem to be in love, every one of them. It's so 
curious. I do believe you can't find a man iii the armj' not in love. 

Agate. Such stuff ! I've my doubts whether such pretty girls as 
you ought to be nurses here. 

Alice Why, Aunty, somebody must go. 

Agate. To be sure they must; but the homelj- folks ain't all dead 
yet, and when they're used up it's time to try the young and hand- 
some ones. 

Rose. Oh Agate! I never knew you to be so complimentary before. 
We'll have to wear veils, Alice, for fear that in curing the young 
soldiers' wounds, we should make worse ones. 

Agate, That's all very well; but there's aheap of romantic non- 
sense, I'm afraid, in your nursing. 

Alice. Perhaps that makes us so welcome. Aunty. 

Agate. I don't know but it is so. After all, I'd rather have 'em 
see your bright eyes by their sides when they're in pain, than my 
cross old face. It does 'em good. 

Rose and Alice. Oh, Aunty ! 

Agate. It does, I know, for I've seen their eyes fire up as the soft 
music of your voices singing in unison stole through the night upon 
their ears. 

(Rose ancZ Alice st'ngr ; after which they put their arms around 
Agate. She kinnes them both fondly. Soldiers appear at back 
with wounded soldiei: 

Hiram. [Who leads them). I say. Mother, here's a Reb we heard a 
groauin' in the bushes, and brought him along. 

Alice. Oh ! let me see him ; I will tend him. Bring him in here. 

{Pointing to tent, k. u. E ) 

Turf. I think you might use your time better'n be curin' these fel- 
lers so as to make 'em strong enough to fight us agin. 

Alice. They are no longer our enemies, now that they are sick and 
helpless. The poor and sick all the world over should be like inno- 
cent children to those who are well and strong. 

( The soldier is taken into tent, and Alice follows. The group at 
back continue to comment on it, in motion). 

Agate. She's always first by the side of any of the sick prisoners. 
Do you know why ? 

Rose. Don't you ? Have you ever feared to see and know Bome= 



NORWOOD. 57 

thing terrible, and still walchc d— walcl.c d fcr it more than if it 
were to be a tiling of pli'asiire ? Well, Alice is watching, hoping, 
but sadly fearing — lor )^omf oitn ! 

Agate. For some one ! Not for Barton ; for though we haven't 
seen him for two years, we know he's sate enough. 

KosE. No, not for Barton ; he is not in tlie Southern ranks. 

Agate. 'Taint for Heywood? I hope she don't watch and fear for 
him. (Rose m/rf.s). Well, I shouldn't like to feel an interest in any- 
one that's on the other side these stormy days. (Goes to tent l. ) 

Rose. Nor I. Poor Alice ! (Goes r.) 

(Pete enters icith mail bag from back, didributing letters to soldiers 
who crowd around him). 

Pete Yah! yah! here's de mail; here dey am. No, ain't got none 
for you, sonny. Pll hab to write you one. Now, den, keep off — don't 
crowd de distributin' clerk. Golly, dere's Miss Bissell! and Miss 
Rose. (Rose and Agate l. c. Pete throws the mail bag to Hard- 
scrabble Boy anrf conie.s rfoww as Alice comes /rom tent b). And Miss 
Alice !! De Lor' be bressed. 

Agate. Well done! Assure as soot here's our Pete. Pm as glad 
to see your homely black face as if you were as white as snow. 

Pete. Dat you may be. Miss, for when dis here face is white as 
snow, dats de ghost ob Pete, sure. (Shakes hands grinningly iDith all.) 

Rose (r. c.) Yes, indeed, Pete, we're as glad to see you as if you 
belonged to us. 

Pete (c). So I does! I don't belong to nobody more'n you, 'cept 
de gineral. 

Alice (l. c) . Barton! is he near us ? 

Pete. Well ! he aint' berry far off. 

Rose and Alice. Where? Where? 

Pete. Well! you see dem woody hummocks ober yonder ? 

Rose and Alice. Yes! 

Pete. Well, de gineral, he's along beyond 'em furder up towards 
dat way, and a leetle ober. 

Agate. Well, Pete, that is a direction, Pm sure. 

Pete. Its de on'y way to describe de unsartin manner in which he 
don't stay in one place. 'Specially dis night ; for you see dere's one 
sure t'ing, we commence de fight again in de moruiu'. 

Agate, Hose and Alice. In the morning, Pete ? 

Pete. An' de giueral's as busy as a bee in Spring time, gettin' 
eberyting in trim. Fust he's dis side; den de oder side; most of 
times I do believe I sees him in two places at once. 

Alice. Does he know we are here ? 

Pete. Nebber a notion of it. He says — says he — I believes dey'a 
in Washington. Dat's all he say. 

Rose. And we shant see him. It is too bad (imth much feeling, 
and then turning to Alice and smiling). Since he has become a general, 
Alice, we never see him. 

Agate ( Taking Alice to her arms and patting her head kindly). Can't 
you find him, Pkte, and tell him where we are? 

Pete. Well, I'u] inclined to tink dat as he's gwine ober de whole 
field he'll drop down here afore a great while. 

Rose. Tiiat will be so pleasant. I shall hardly know him. A ge- 
neral. And I have not seen him since he went away from Norwood. 

Alice. (Thoughtfully). Yes; two whole years. 
8 



NORWOOD. 59 

Rose. Two years. Is that all you care about it? I keep the count 
exactly — its nearly three. 

Agate. Ah! my darling girl, I kept the count as closely once, 
{kissing her brow) ; may your reckoning reach a happier end. {She 
and the girls go up ; look off l. a while, and then go to hospital tent, r.) 

Hiram. {Coming down with others) . Well, Pete! 

Pete. Why, Hy'am! An' Mr. Turfmould, {Shaking hands with them), 
and what! de'Soy from Hardscrabble 1 Well, de sight of dat Boy am 
as good as breakfast. I do believe dat Norwood am sent more men 
to de war, in 'portion, dan any oder State in de Union. 

Turf. This is, indeed, a very pleasant occasion ; we should cele- 
brate it. {Draws canteen from his belt, and offers it solemnly to 
HiR.4ii). Take a sip, Mr. Beers. 

Hiram. What is it, Tcrfey ? 

[Rose sits in tent, her hand leaning against opening ; Alice rests her 
head in Rose's lap ; they sleep. Agate enters her tent.] 

Turf. Water! 

BoT He ! he ! I guess Mr. Beers would like something more like 
liquor. 

Hiram. Wa-a-1, not exactly ; liquor is a good thing in its place ; 
but I think the worst place for it is in a man's stomach. I don't 
believe the Lord ever made that hole in a man's face to pour liquor 
through. {Points to Turf's mouth.) 

Pete. Den dere's been an amazin' obersight somehow ; and dere'a 
been a sight o' liquor got throo the wrong place, 

BoT. {Upstage.) Helloo ! here' a lot o' epilets comin'. 

Turf. {Looking off, l.) I don't see any one. 

Hiram. It looks iike. Yes ; it is Barton ! {Music. Soldiers and 
all take l. of stage, as Barton, dressed as Brigadier General, Esel as 
Colonel, and others enter. Barton in advance in fatigue dress, arm in 
sling, takes c, Pete, r. c. 3Ien salute and retire up stage. Moon entirely 
disappears, stage dark. 

Barton. Ah, Pete! Hiram! 

[Pete, grinning, points to Rose and Alice sleeping, e.] 

Barton. Rose! Alice! 

Hiram. Tired out, Gineral ; they've been hard at work all day, and 
now they were waiting and hoping for you. 

Barton. {Lifting his hat). God bless them! And yet, my friends, 
you will find, when the people of the Union are building monuments 
to the heroes of the war, these women, tiie nurses of our hospitals, 
who have done so much— so modestly— will be forgotten. Perhaps 
it is just ! No marble column is fit to commemorate their gentle 
hearts, nor brazen pillar to keep their memory green I But every 
wounded veteran that tells the tale of blood will speak their praises 
and ano-els write them in eternal books ! (Hose and Alice start up). 

Alice. Oh, Brother ! {Rose remains behind). 

Hiram. Now boys, let loose! One shout for the General! {Shout). 

One for Norwood! {Shout). One for ! {B^rtoh remonstrates). Oh, 

all right, General, just as you say. 

Alice. Dear Barton, to see you here in this strange place is like 
a breath from home. {Looking around). But where is Rose ? {Crosses 
to L. o/ Barton). 

Bar. Who ? 

Alice. Rose ! Rose is with me, (Bajjton shows emotion), and Aunt 
Agate, and we are so happy. 



NORWOOD. 61 

[Rose comes forward tbiridhj, put» out her hand shyly at first, and 
then, with a burd of real, feeling, places both hands in Barton's, and 
looks at him with a frank smile). 

Bar. {Pressing her hands with delight). This is very, very kind, 
Miss Wentworth. 

RosK. {Hastihi and warmly). No, Barton, I am not Miss Went- 
worth to you! i am RoseI The same name we used in childhood, if 
you pl(;ase. {Archly). 

Bar. (Alice goes to Agate's tent). As you please. Rose; our child- 
hood was very, very happy ; and yet, you see, there is nothing left 
of it n(jw, but a name. (Rose looks sadly away). 

Hiram [Coming down, u) General, what's the orders ? 
Bar. Why, Hiram ! More of Norwood. Men, at the first streak of 
dawn, be ready. Yesterday decided nothing; our work by sunrise 
will h ive recommenced. 

All the Soldiers. Another day! That's good ! Hurray! 
Alice. [Running out to him with Agate). Oh, brother, are you 
going into danger again? 

Agate. What's this, Barton, more of this fighting — Massy on us, 
didn't they have enough yet ? 

Barton. Yes. In whose care are you ? 

Hiram. Mine, Gineral ! And, bless their dear hearts, I'll take 
precious good care on 'em. ('Barton shakes his hand suddenly, and 
with emotion, and points to Rose, who has gone to the tratchfire, and is 
gazing .sadly into it). All right, Gineral, I know. But the baggage 
train is a pesky place for young gals. We're alius at the tail eend 
o' the army, where all the loafers and stragglers are, and where 
there isn't much else but iightin' and yellin'. It does seem to me as 
if the hind eend of an army is wuss nor the front eend. It's like 
Grandfather Cathcart's old musket, it'll tear you to death if you go 
afore it, and kick you to death if you go behind it. 

Bar. And you — {Taking Rose's hand and turning her to him), yovt 
brave everything. I never knew what the spirit of woman was 
till now. 

Rose. It is only a spirit of devotion, Barton. Woman must have 
something to work for, to live for, to sufler for. 

Esel. {At bark). They are asking for you at headquarters, General. 

{Exit L. U. E.) 
Bar. Farewell then, for another day; at night, if I am yet among 
the living, I will ride over and see you here. 

Rose. Barton, for Heaven's sake, for ours, do not expose yourself 
too much. 

Bar. ( Whispering). Will you say "for my sake ?" 
Rose. {Tenderly) Yes, for my sake. 

Bab. God bless you i\ir that word ! But fear not; the bullet that 
is intended Icjr another will pass me by in the thickest fight, and that 
which is to reach me, will find me out in the securest cover. {Music) 
Good bye! {Shaken hands with Agate). Good bye! [Kisses Alice). 
God bless you, Hose I [Go'<s up). Enjoy yoni'selves, men, while you 
can, there'll l)e workenou-h soon. [E.xit with officers l. Rose and 
Alice lake each others hands, and look after Idm; pause.) 

Agate. Come, gills, let us go to our duties again It's time to 
make our rounds. {They go up into hospital lent E. and procure lint, 
bandages, &c 

H. Boy The gals is gone in, let's have some fun. 
Hiram. Rake up the fire, Hardscrabble. 



NORWOOD. 63 

Pete. 'Tis kinder chilly. (Soldiers and Tcrf. all get snugly around 
the fire, which the Boy makes blaze up). 

Turf. Snugger upl Where's j'our spirits? Say, Irish, get 
your fiddle out; it's in my wagon yonder. 

(Irish Solviier gets violin; Boy bursts out^in a noivj song, only sings a 
line or tu:o, ichereat soldiers clap their hands, when Agate with Rose and 
Alice cross the stage as if to go their rounds, v-ell muffled up). 

Agate. Boys! Boys! 

Irish Soldier. — 'Sh, the pretty ladies 1 

Agate. Don't make too much noise, to excite the poor fellows in 
pain, about you. 

Boy. All right, Miss Bissell, we'll play so 's not wake a grass- 
hopper that's taking a nap {The ladies exeunt l). Give us a song, 
Turfey. 

Turf sings song, while lying on the ground, not too loudly. When he 
is done, the Boy jumps up in delight, ^^^ile this scene goes on, the flush 
of sunrise creeps over the scene). 

Boy (Dancing a step or two). That's so good! Irish, scrape your 
fiddle for a jig, won't you ? ( Violin very low, and dance, not too noisy. 
Distant roll of drum after Boy's dance). 

Hiram. Daylight, boys! There's the reveille! 

Pete. Golly, I must be off ; the gineral '11 be hollerin for Pete at 
no rate. 

Hiram. And I must get to my horses. Come boys! 

(Distant gun heard, and shower of shells. Hiram exits h., followed by 
Boy, Pete, and other soldiers, who take their guns from the stack c. 
Music. Rose, Alice, and Ag.\tk enter). 

Alice. Was that firing, aunty ? 

Agate. Yes, child; they are at it again. The way mankind do take 
to fightin' is surprisin'. Its well this war came off; I think it was 
good for the country. Something would ha' happened if all this 
spunk had been kept bottled up. 

{Three or four more guns heard at various distances). 

Rose {Looking off v.). It is away off to the South. 

Alice {Also looking r., anxhmsly). Oh, Rose! 

{DistantcaU to arnw, r. and l ,from the drums). 

Alice {Falling on her knees). God have mercy on them! 

( Whip heard outside). 

Hiram {Entering with ivhip). Duck yer heads there! Why, you 
blessed fools, get into the tents {Helping Hose to raise Auce uji). 
Why, Miss Alice, you are mortal pale this morning; I've seen you 
in the thickest fight, and never a shudder. {Stop music). 

Rose. What ails you Alice ? Come, rest on my arm. Courage, 
dear; be brave. 

{Enter Pete, with leiter, h). 

Pete. 'Sh! spoke low, Hiram, look a here! {Gives leiter and exit). 

Hiram. Here Pete ! Darnation, I don't want . I'd a given my 

own life a thousand times over. Miss Rose I 

Rose. Well, Hiram. 

Hiram. Miss Rose — No, it's too bad — it's too bad ! 

Rose. What has happened ? Oh, tell me — has Barton fallen ? 

Hiram. 'Taint no use. You might as well know first as last. 

Rose {Laying her hand on his arm). Speak my friend 1 

Hiram This here. Miss Rose, is the last letter you'll ever get from 
Barton Cathcart. . 



NORWOOD. 65 

Rose. {Opening, then dropping letter). My Jieart 1 — The long dream 
is over ! 

{Fanne. — Firing, drum and shells. Ihe girls look off in the direction 
and shrink away. Running up c. at tmck). 
UiKAM. Go into tlie tent 1 Darnation, you women folks lias no busi- 
ness to be here anyhow. ^ 

Rose. {Turning calmly to him). Then why arc the soldiers there, 

IIlKAM '{ 

HiRAM. It's their business to be there to iight ; that's their place. 
{Hooniing of cannon continues, hut grows fainter). 

Rose. Tlicn it is our business to relieve the wounded, who fall 
fighting for you and ine. 

(Rose and Alice go into hospital tent ii:ith Aoatr). 

HiKAM. Waal I like their pluck ; they've aru't e])ilets, both on 'em, 
over and over again. But they want a gardeen over them. 

( Very faint roll of drums heard from various directions, and dis- 
tant booming of cannon). 

TuRFMouu), {Crossing with soldiers from l, to it.) I say, Mr. Beers, 
can't you come and help us to bring the wounded fellers in ; there's 
a sight on 'cm. 

Hiram. To be sure I will. Lead on, I'm with you, Tukfy. 

{Exeunt as Boy, and Irish Soldier enter u. 1. e. bearing Hey- 
wood). 

Irish Soldier. Shall we lave him here ? He's only a rebel any 
how. 

IIeywood. {Faintly, but smiliag.) Yes, my good friend, I'm only a 
man now ; and I'll be merely a lump of earth presently. But won't 
you give me a taste from your canteen ? 

Boy. Give it to him, Irish. 

Irish Soldier. Bedad, I don't begrudge it, (IIeywood dies as if 
falling asleqj, with the canteen in his hand.) Ah ! pcKjr fellow ; there'll 
be some purty girl's heart breaking for him presently, and him a 
sleeping too heavy for the love of woman or the hate of man to wake 
him. 

Boy. {Horrified, laijing the corpse on earth, 0.) Come away; leave 
him ahjiie ! 'Sh ! speak low; they might hear, {pointing to tent where 
ladiesare, and pulling soldier away). Don't say anything; if tliey find 
out, let 'em. The boys in Norwood used to like him — he was good 
to the boys. 

[_San.rise glow suffuses the scene. Tluey go up, and as they are about to 
exit, h., jnee< Hiram; Boy stops him, and points to Heywood; IIiram about 
to go down whan Alice enters from tent ; all pausn aboi'e, watching her.\ 

Alice. I heard them bring in some poor fellow; where have they 
put him? {Sees body.) A Southerner I {Runs toivards him, then 
checks herself, places her hand on her heart, and advances sloidy.) It is 
HeywoodI {Kneels beside him.) He sleeps. {Genlly touching his 
shoulder.) Mr. HeywoodI {2'akes his hand, and it falls heavUy.) Speak 
to mel It is Alice — -Alice CathcartI Speak to me; I would speak to 
you even if I were dying. {Frightened.) Tiiis cannot be death — he 
is not dead. 

Hiram {comes down and loaches her on the shoulder, she looks around 
vaguely). Mlss Alice, come away — do come away. {She points vuith 
tearful eyes to HnYwoov's body.) You can't do nothin' for him, Miss 
Alice ; he's past it all. 

Alice. He's dead I Oh, God take me. 
9 



NORWOOD. 67 

Hiram. Poor child; I guess you've got about the worst wound j-ct. 
Poor tiling, her heart's broke. I alius suspected how it was. There, 
there; don't groan so — don't, child I It'll all be right; poor little 
thing 1 

Alice. Wait till I fix his pillow; it's a hard, cruel bed. (^A fierce 
rattle of munkelry, and single bourn; die takes Heywood's head in her 
arms.) 

Hiram. Why, Miss Alice, I didn't know he loved you. 

Alice. {After spasm.) No; but I loved him. You don't think it 
was wrong — do you, Hiram ? 

Hiram. No, Lord bless you, child, it was right; it was jest as right 
as could be 1 {Tears). But do — do — come. {Endeavoring to drag 
her away). 

[A shell rolls in wUhin a foot of the group, the fuse burning 
furiously. All the men throw themselves to the earth. Hiram shrinks 
back. Alice unmoved! Rosk rushes in. Hirmi utters an exclama- 
tion as Rose picks up the shell and throws it off r. ; the same instant 
a tremendous explosion is heard and a bright flash seen, and the flag 
falls from the staffs. 

Hiram. Damnation! that flag must be kept flying! 
Boy. {Running out). I'll nail it up, Hiram, let me! (Climbs the 
pole with flag). 

Hiram. Great God! wc will all be killed! 

[ The flag at the same instant is nailed to the staff. A shower of 
shells burst on the scene, and 

Curtain. 



A C T I V. 

SCENE. — Dr. Wentworth's in Norwood. Apartment adjoining the 
Conservatory — which is .seen on the r. Through large doors 
on L. c. is seen the yard and country beyond. A door r. and 
L. Large old-faMvioned fire-place, l. 2. e. Log fire. Old- 
fashioned furniture. 

The scene opens a few months after the conclusion of 
the war. Early on the morning of the icedding day of 
Barton and Rose. 

Pete is discovered at back gesticulating as if giving di- 
rections to Hardscrabble Boy, who is lieard without. 

Boy. Shoo! Shoo! 

Pete. You can't catch a turkey dat way 1 Go 'long 'round 'im and 
surprise 'ira. What you bin to war fur, if you don't know Iiow to 
flank a turkey ? 
[Boy enters with turkey, tvhich escapes from him just as he gets to do(jr.] 

Boy. Darn tlie thing ! I tell you tliat turkey knows more than most 
any General what you ever see ; he's first rate on a retreat. 

Pete. Whar'm he got to now ? 

Boy. (Pointing off). Down in the brush there. 

Pete. Den jes' bring on your artillery to dislodge him ; fire stones 
at him an' he's boun' to come out. 

Boy. Well, we'll try him agin'. {Picking up stones and firing till he's 
off). Shoo! Shoo! {ExU). 

[Enter Agate beating up pan of eggs, her armsflour'd, r. 1. e.] 

Agate. Why, Pete, hav'nt you got that turkey yet ? 

Pete. Bress de Lor', no. Miss Agate. Do you know, I 'tink dat 
turkey knows mos' much as a nigger, an' heap more'n a white man ; 
when dat boy almos' hab him he put on de mos' splendid military 
tactics you eber see. 

Agate. Well, 1 can't wait for that now ; the cider's turned sour, 
and I want some brand}' for the mince-meat. 

Boy. {Outside). Aha! {Shout of triumph) Hi, hi! 

Agate. {Going to opening). Mercy on u.s, what's that? 

Pete. 1 guess dat means dat after a protracted engagement de 
turkey hab surrendered. 

(Boy enters with a prodigious turkey, and with his nose bleeding). 



NORWOOD. 71 

Boy. {Between crying and joy). Boo ! hoo 1 I got him 1 Hi, hi ! I 
got him. 

Agate. Take him into the liitcheu and give it to cook. 

Boy. Anything else, mum ? 

Agate. Do you know wLere there's any brandy to be got, handy ? 

Boy. No mum ! {Looking at Pete, who returns look awkwardly) — 
not unless Pete knows. 

Agate {Beating up viixlure). Well, unless I get some, there'll be 
no mince pies. That's all. 

Boy. No mince pies on the wedding day ? I say Pete, that won't 
do. 

Pete. I say Miss Agate. I guess I kin remember, if I tries hard, 
where some am hid. 

Agate. I thought you could. 

Pete. But 't'want me as hid it. No ma'm 1 Dere wa8 a Dutchman 
las' summer. You remember dat Dutchman, had on a hat, and big 
boots, and wore gloves. 

Agate. {Dryly). No. 

Pete. Well, he was a Dutchman ! Now 'pears to me I see dat 
Dutchman hab suthiu' in a bottle that he used to drink — dis way — 
and then he go dis way ! An' I see him hide him 'mong the rocks out 
dere under de big tree. Did'nt I, Hardscrabble ? 

Boy. What the use of talkin' that way — out with it. 

Pete. Well, Miss Agate, de fac is, I went down dere and confis- 
cated dat 'ere bottle. 

Agate. Yes, that'll do, Pete ; you've developed extraordinary 
talents for an excise officer. Take it to the kitchen. 

(BoT and Pete are going off c. Pete tasting liquor slyly). 

Pete. {To Boy.) Jus' wait a minnit'. Yes I 'cordin to de descrip- 
tion what I heard dat Dutchman gib ob de nasty stutf, dis am brandy 
sure 1 

(Rose and Alice entering l. h. l. blithlehj, detect Pete, who is very 
much ashamed). 

Alice. Oh, Pete 1 

Pete. It was only a little drop. Miss Alice— jus' for joy— jus' for 
Miss Rose's weddin'. 

Rose. I thought you promised me never to taste liquor any more, 
Pete. Don't you know how it distresses us all for you to do it. 
Suppose while you are playing in the woods and by the streams with 
the little children, as you used to play with me, when I was a little 
child, you should lose them or drown them. 

Pete. Now, Miss Rose; now. Miss Alice, I declare to you — I 
never will touch anoder drop — no nebber. Pse a low blackguard, I 
knowl (Rose and AucElurn aside to conceal laughing). Don't cry. 
Miss Rose, I ain't worth it Miss Alice. Pll get converted; by golly I 
will! Don't cry, I'll go right off and stop drinkin dis minnitl Here, 
Boy, take de nasty stuff 1 Don' cry, Miss Alice {blubbering), Pll go 
right off, and swear off, and nebber touch 'nodder drop. 

(Boy and Pete exit c, and Rose and Alice comefront). 

Rose. Poor Pete! I do believe he'll keep his word. 

Agate {Kissing Alice). Bless you, my dear! {Same to Ro.se) And 
to you, darling, a thousand good mornings on this golden day. After 
all your griefs, it comes to repay you with a life-long joy {Flouring 
her face as she wipes her eyes). There, don't mind me, i m a foolisu 



NORWOOD. 73 

old maid, and I ought to bo nlidvo such nousencc. My pies will be 
ruined if I don't let such things alone. {Kxithurridly at i,. Music). 

Rose. Dear Alice! how happy I am. Do you know I was happy 
that day 1 got Barton's letter on the field of battle — happy, though, 
with his confession of love came the fear that he was dead. But to 
know that he was saved by a miracle from death, that I was per- 
mitted to nurse him back to life — that he loves me more and more — 
and that we are to be married to day, is happiness witiiout a cloud. 

Ai.KK {Kii<sing her). Darling KoseI how 1 delight in telling yon 
that, though you will become my sister in earnest to-day, you have 
been so in my heart and in Barton's hopes, all the days I can re- 
member. 

Hose. Ah! Alice, had we but had the courage to tell each other 
our thoughts years ago, how dill'ercut might have been your future. 

Alice. Not mine — it was impossible. 

Rose. Impossible ! 

Alice. Have you never seen a child's bubble, blown 'till its glow- 
ing sides are pictured in exquisite tints — then thrown olf into the 
air — rising, or settling down, with motion so gentle that it seems 
more like a thought than a thing. Unapproached — it floats a bril- 
liant globe, on whose sides earthly objects purified and refined are 
reflected; — but once seek to possess it, and the arch collapses, the 
picture fades — the dream is gone forever! 

Rose. Tiiis was your love, Alice! Dear sister, I know your mean- 
ing. We have both had our dreams. Heaven has permitted me to 
realize mine: it has reserved it for you in another world. 

Alice. It has done more. It lias shown me a source of joy in this. 
I shall have the school I wanted, and when you and Barton are 
married, I shall go to my now home in the South. But there, it is 
growing late in the morning, and you are not yet dressed — come, I 
insist on being your maid. 

[Noise of wagon and sound of whip without, c.J 

Hiram. Whoa! whoa! 

Alice. {Going to c.) I declare it's the Deaco.vI (Deacon enters, as 
Rose is going off r. 1 e. ) 

Deacon. Don't run off 'till I shake hands with you, and wish you 
joyl Ah! it makes me feel all the pangs of widower-hood when I 
hear of folks getting married ! Poor Folly ! 

Rose. Don't be downhearted, Deacon — tliere'a some comfort iu life 
left for you. 

Deacon. Dear me ! Do you think so ? Now really — you couldn'h 
indicate in what direction I ought to look for it, could you 'I 

Rose. Not very far. Deacon. {Exit with Alice, laughing.) 

Deacon. I want to know ! {Looks puzzled). 

[Hiram appears at c , ivith an enormous Pumpkin.] 

Hiram. Miss Agate, here's the pie fruit! Whar be all the folks? 
[Agate enters l. I e., with pan of apples and knife. Boy follow- 
ing with a large slice of bread.] 

Agate. Deacon, I'm glad to see you ! That you, Hiram ? Barton 
coming? 

Hiram. Be here presently! The old Norwood Company, or what's 
left on 'em, hev jes' got in by the train. By jiminy, how rough an' 
tough they look. And their old tattered flags too. Barton's with 
'em, giving 'em his welcome back. Say.s he's going to bring 'em up 
to the weddin'. Ah! it's worth seein', this day. And to think, now, 
10 



NOEWOOD. 75 

RoHE 'ill bo happy, ag'in. Now do you know, I remember when her 
fatlier waH married — before she was born. 

AoATE. Heml Mr. Beers — likely. 

Hiram. Aye! You remember lier, don't you, Deaco.v. 

Deacon. Boston gal war'nt she, Hiram. 

Hiram. (Taking a chew). Ya'as. You see the Doctor meant to 
many Miss Naxon, till he saw Miss Ferris, and he might have de- 
cided between tli(.ni if Miss Orke.m.eaf liad'nt come to town, andthere 
was three on 'em. On lookin' into the matter, he found he liked 'em 
just alike to a grain, and as the law would'nt let him marry 'em all, 
he was forced to go to Boston. When he got there every single one 
of the first chop folks was nianif d off but (jne ; there was just one 
left — the Doctor saw h('r in Old Koiith Church. She was a singing 
" Come ye disconsolate " — and the minnit' she sot her eyes on the 
Doctor — 

Agate. There, that'll do ; it's one of your long stories, and I must 
be in the kitchen. 

Hiram. All right Miss Bisseli,! Jes' as you say. 

( Saunter H off back v.ilh Boy. Agate lake» chair by fire, vrith applen, 
and begiriH peeling). 

Deacon. (Anide). Rose said I necd'nt look fai- ! I wonder how 
Agate would feel about it. Polly would have likefl her amazin', I 
know, as my second. (OneH over to Agate Henlimimtalbj). Heml 
Miss Agate. 

Agate. (Peeling aj/jAes). Hurry in the kitchen with that pumpkin, 
boy. Did you speak, Deacon. I'm in a sort o' hurry, you see. 

Deacon. You can peel and talk too, can't you, Sister Agate? 

Agate Talk? Bless me, Deacon! about what ? 

Deacon. {Sea.tinf/ himself). Sister Agate do you know I've been 
thinking about the state of matrimony, and what a blesaed thing that 
that is one of the States always in the Union. 

Agate. Yes, I suppose, now, you often do think of Polly. 

Deacon. (Playing vrilh aiq)l en.) Ah! when she left me, I thought 
she had taken the heaven of this life with her ! but I have been mis- 
taken ; she's left so many angels here yet. ( Veryfidgelly.) 

Agate. Take care, Deacon, you'll upset the pan. 

Deacon. I'll hold it ! [FuIh hia heeh on front rung of chair, and takes 
pan of ajjjdea on hix Icneea, Agate alvjayn peeling.) You do peel apples 
most uncommon slick. 

Agate. So did Polly, Deacon. 

Deacon. Ya-as ! but there's a sort o' way about the way you peel 
'm that Polly never had the hang o*, Agate. Perhaps she's got it 
now, for she's made perfect ! Oh, Agate ! ( (JloKping kin hondn in 
ardor he leanii forward and upwtH the pan full of ajqdeis I Hiram and 
Boy oulxide setn up a nhout of laughl/rr. Hiram exits.) 

Aoatk. Theri!, I was afraid of it ! 

Deacon. Pll pick 'em up I (Goch ail aJjout p/kking the ajqMs up.) 
Don't let this disturb you. What a lesson it teaches ! How often in 
life, at the most critical moment, do we get our apple cart upsot. Let 
it be a lesson to us. ( The Boy (-ornes in and goes about on his hands 
and kneex jAcking up the aj/pk>i. j Just one word, Agate ! {S<inti- 
mentally.) You know Pm alone now. I have nobody with me. 

Agate. Thai's pret^ lair for you, Deaco.v. 

Deacon. I mean spiritually. Agate, spiritually. 1 look about me 
o'er the waste of life and what do I see. 



N O R W O O T> . 77 

l!oY. [On his i-iiffs q/'liT ((/i/i/i'.v. "I Wlicri'vci' yiii[ n<'c 'fiii, l>KKr;, lot 
nit' know, anil I'll |iick 'cm np 

Dl'lAi'ON. 'riici'c's OMO i^'iMU' (Inw II jiy llii' liir |il!n-r, my Kim. Oil, 
AoATic I liiivi' yon cvor tlunip,lil you woi'o inlrnilril In nuiUr somr liomo 
hivpiiy '( 

AiiATK. Well, I iicvrr llioii;;lil so iiiilll somo one lolil me hi). 

DitAcoN. Sumo line 1 

Agatk. Yns; iind no(. very Ion;;' Nincc. ^'oii koc I'm I'liink willi 
yon, Dkaoon. 

Dkaixin. Thon I'm loo laic. 

Agatk. Jii.sl a lillU^ bit;. 

Deacon. (Mii/n'x a slip hachrnrds and tliis an uji/ilf Unit Ihr liov /((/(/ 
chiisrd ti> his hrvl st'i-i-nil i/ards Jiiiilirr (>(/'. Thi', Uov tluiscs il in its nnn 
dirfttiou.) Tiiis in u lixcii tiling, ifi il AiiATH? 

.'\i:ati!. Yes. ('I'li/.in;/ lip pan). .\\u\ ulicii «c j^'ct In llic clmicli yon 
slnill know tiic rest. (/Ciit, i. I. v.). 

DHAOON. oil, what, wonlil l'oi,i,\ Niiy il' she rmihl hear Ihin'l 

Boy. Why she'il isay it werveil ymi rij^nl. .'-^nch a. wili' as I'ui.i.y 
MAiiin.n waa to yon, Dkacon; you iuif;'hl to think llial you lu'ver emihl 
finii anotliei' like her. 

Dkaoon. 1 (liil'nt e.xpeel to; no, imr I iliil'iil wiiiil to. 

Boy. Don't, yon know who 'tis that's imnle up to Miss Missm.i,. 

Deacon. No, anil it tlon't nmller ho Ion;;' as il ain't iiie; Imt I knew 

tliiu^H waH agoin' ai^'in' iiu^; I lived too tar out, of liiwii. {(iin'inj c). 

[Enter Vv:vv. in a dfji'iivd diili\full<iiifd at distamv hy IliiiAji, c. | 

I'lCTK. DuAcoN, I'hc been lookin' lor you; I waul to lake siithin'. 

Dkacon. What do you want to Lake I'k'ih '! 

Pktk. I'hc Hwoi'd oil' IVom driiikin', Piacon, an' I waul, .siimi'lliin' 
rig-Ill away. 

Dkacon. VVii-al, thafn cnrious. 

IhitAM. (Dtnrn u). (in<'HH he's licen luivin' snlliiu' alicady, Dkacon; 
loo innch. 

I'ktk. 1 ain't agoin' to lia\e any more inni; it's made MisK Uosit 
cvy, nil' it's inaiie me I'etd like a guilty nigger; I'se swor'd oil", an' 1 
want ti) have Homethiu' to bind liie bargain, 

Dkacon. Oh, you want to lake tlu^ ))lcdge. 

I'ktk. Sonicthin' strong I want; I alvYays was used to it, strong, an' 
I want this to be sli'ong too. 

Deacon. VVtill, Just come over here. 

{(liH'sto lal>l<; tah'sa largr shert o/' paper, silsdnivn, puts an liis s/iccs 
and ciiminences to loritr. lliiiAM pais an his specs, and In' and I'kik and 
l5ov all look over DkaconJ. 

HiKAM. That'll biMincommoii strong, I'ktk. 

Hoy. What yon going to do with it 1'etic 'i* 

Pk'I'k. Don't you boddor yourself 'bout, it, young teller; you ain't 
old enough to know the diU'erenci^ 'tween rnin and whiskey yil, dar- 
I'ore dcri' ain't no s'lemnily' 'bout sweariii' oil' to ymi. 

Dkacon. Sign this, I'ktk. I'nt your mark to it. 'I'liere! 'I'liero's a 
pledge not to taste a drop of liipior again. (Dkacon exits ) 

(I'ktk lakes the, paper renemtitialli/, and gazes iil it). 

Kov. Let's see il I'ktk. (I'ktk sIiows if, hut won't let him touch it). 
What good's that 't 

I'ktk. It'll prevent my (diber toncliin' a dro|) o' liquor iigin. Young 
JJoY, you iH young, but yon is old enough to do good. Don't drink. 



<i 



NORWOOD. 79 

You has the inisfortune to be white, and de liquor '11 show more oa 
you. 

Boy. Ah! ain't you sohl nice. That there paper ain't no good. 
Pete. Ain't no good ? Wliy ain't it no good ? 
Boy. 'Cause it ain't got no stamp on it. 

{Burst of laughter from Hiram aiid all exit c. Distant music hyhand 
heard). 

Hiram {as he's going). There's the band and the soldiers. 

(Rose and Barton enter r. 1 e.) 
Bar. Dear Rose. 

Rose. I wanted you to come so much, Barton, before it was time 
to go to church. When the golden gate is shut upon me, Rose 
Wentworth will iHver be seen on earth again {gaily), so you ought 
to be with me in my last moments. 

Bar. And so I am, darling ; but do you know I want those moments 
to pass away quickly, for tlie sake of the many happy hours to come 
after them. How I have dreamed of this — have hoped, have dis- 
paired, and hoped again — until all my life seems to have been one 
long thought of you, 

Rose. If you had but spoken so, years ago. 
Bar. You forget that I did speak. Rose. 
Rose. No, indeed, you did not. 
Bar. Not when I left Norwood to go to the West ? 
Rose. And what was I to think of those simple, little flowers ? 
But I kept them 'till they withered and withered, but they were all 
I had of yours, and I meant to die with them and be buried with 
them. I often thought you might have sent some words of farewell 
with them — but {archly), perhaps, you did not love me then, so 
truly. 

Bar. Darling! {Kisses her brow) . You shall see. Have you the 
flowers still ? 

[Rose runs to little shelf in the Oonsrrvalory and brings a box out. 
Opens it on table and lakes the faded bouquet — tied with faded 
string, same as 1st Act. She brings it to Barton.] 
Bar. Yes, my bouqucit ! {He simply unwinds the ribbon, and dis- 
covers to her a bit of discolored paper) . Look at this, Rose, and say, 
whose was the fault of this long silence, and all this despair ? I 
thought that you had n^ad them, but scorned the writer. See, the 
lines are almost effaced, but here I trace the words that came from 
my very soul, that told you I loved you. 

[Embrace. The village bells chime in distance. Sound of band 
heard nearer.] 
Listen! our new life opens with this holy music. 

Rose. And its harmony, dear Barton, will follow step by step 
through all our lives. 

Hiram. {Entering at back). The veteran boys are coming up by the 
house Gen'ral. They'll give you a wedding salute. 

{Enter from r. 1 e., Wentworth, Deacon, and friends. From 
L. 1 E., Agate and Alice. From c, Pete and Boy. Music 
louder). 
Went. To the church! To the church! 

( The wedding party take up positions on R. towards c. Rose and 
Barton lead by Wentworth. Pete and Boy stand by door on 
L. The soldiers with tattered flags, and knapsacks and the 
band of music pass c. opening.) 

Band, Soldiers, Soldiers, Soldiers. 
Curtain. 



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^^ DEC 88 

'm=Wt- N. MANCHESTER, 










